


Kataomoi

by akainagi



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:58:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akainagi/pseuds/akainagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed has a revelation about himself.  Then he has a revelation about the colonel.  Insanity ensues for all involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Ed has multiple revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

Then:

_Somewhere between a surge of hormones and a growth spurt that never really happened, Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, realized he liked men._

_He was sitting on a train, his butt having fallen asleep hours ago, when looked over to the strangely familiar, tall dark handsome stranger asleep in the seat across the aisle, and realized that he found this man attractive. Not attractive in an objective “his-features-are-arranged-in-a-very-aesthetically-pleasing-fashion-and-if-I-was-into-that-sort-of-thing-I-might-care” kind of way, but rather in the way that made Ed wonder how that little spot two inches below that guy’s ear might taste and what kind of sounds the guy would make if he tried to find out. Dark hair falling over closed eyes and a slightly parted, well formed mouth created in Ed a familiar sense of forward momentum. Like he wanted to reach out and take something, but he wasn’t sure until just now what that something was._

_The realization didn’t completely floor him. It was a logical final conclusion drawn from a wealth of prior evidence, rather than a bolt out of the blue. It was a formal title placed on something that had long been present. And it did explain a few things. It must have surprised him enough to register on his face, though, because the next thing he knew Al was asking him if something was wrong._

_No, Al, everything’s fine._

_Gay, but fine._

_He didn’t actually say that last part. Al had enough problems traipsing across the country as a giant suit of armor. He didn’t need to know that the brother who put him in said armor was not only short, guilt-ridden dog of the military but now a sexual deviant as well._

_By the time they reached their destination, after many more ass-numbing hours, Ed had reached equilibrium again. He filed his newfound revelation about his sexuality in that area of his brain reserved for “shit I’ll deal with after I get Al’s body back.” Romance, with women or men, was so far out of his sphere of concern these days that it didn’t really matter what he was into._

_The train pulled into the station of some crap town he had been sent to by some crap Colonel to investigate a lead that was mostly likely also crap. He stood up in the aisle and tried to remember how his legs worked. It’s kind of hard to walk when you can’t feel your ass. His oddly familiar tall-dark-and-handsome got up too, smiling at Ed in the way that fellow travelers always do. The smile that says ‘Isn’t it great to get off this train, man my ass hurts, have a nice life, and by the way what the hell’s with the suit of armor?’ Ed smiled back at him; ‘Yes it is, me too, you too, none of your business and thanks to you I’m gay.’_

_Ed filed off of the train and onto the platform, grumbling quitely to himself about his numb rear end. He never grumbled to Al about it. He made the mistake of doing that once and Al had gotten this sad look in his eyes and a slump in his metal shoulders. It was then Ed remembered that Al’s everything was numb, from ass to instep, thanks to him. And he would travel to a million crap towns following a million crap leads in the hopes that one of those would lead him to the means to correct his mistake._

Now:

Ed took a deep breath, and braced himself for one of his least favorite duties in the world. It ranked lower than fighting for his life, and might actually be a tie with the excruciating pain he endured whenever Winry reattached his arm and leg. At least with the arm and leg he was allowed to pass out. In a minute he would be swimming in a sea of liquid sarcasm while trying to deflect barbs about his height, his knack for blowing up small towns, his height, his utter failure to find the philosophers stone after years of trying and his height.

Goddamned colonel.

Ed’s metal hand tightened around the roll of papers detailing the latest failure. Days on a train and nearly two weeks in some backwater Podunk, and the only thing he had to show for it was one very sloppy report that was about to get picked apart and him along with it. Maybe he could just slide it under the door … or find Hawkeye and give it to her. But then he wouldn’t get his next mission … if there was one. That and purposely avoiding the man chafed on his pride.

Ed firmly declared himself a chikenshit and knocked on the door with his flesh and blood hand. Two quick raps and wait. And wait. And wait.

Maybe he was out?

Then he could leave the report and count himself a lucky alchemist.

He twisted the knob on the heavy wooden door and stuck his head inside. Prepared to scowl or smile respectively depending on whether the colonel was there or not.

“Excuse me,” he announced, not for the bastard colonel’s benefit, he told himself, but for anyone else that was in there with him. “Colonel Mustang …”

Was snoring.

Loudly.

He was surprised he hadn’t heard it from the other side of the door.

Colonel Roy Mustang was slouched in his chair, feet on his desk, gloved hands dangling, with his head resting on one blue uniformed shoulder. And snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

Ed was now in a quandary. He could leave his report, haul out, and count himself lucky that he had been spared the scheduled tongue lashing. Or he could take advantage of the unique, possibly once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that had been bestowed upon him.

He thought about transmuting a pair of cymbals, or maybe a trumpet. Or a bucket of water. If he got the colonel’s hands wet he might be able to run like hell before being immolated. And Ed was pretty sure he could outrun the man.

He walked across the office as quietly as someone with a heavy metal leg could walk on a wooden floor, not bothering to close the door behind him in the event a quick getaway was necessary.

‘How the hell did this guy make colonel?’ he asked himself as he looked at the officer in all his lazy, snoring splendor. The man’s procrastination skills were legendary, as was his reputation as a skirt-chaser and he had a personality that could peel paint.

He looked like a different person when he was asleep. Ed had convinced himself that the colonel's condescending smirk was a permanent feature; something that was present even in unconsciousness. When it was gone it actually rendered him something approaching a human being. That omnipresent air of haughtiness was gone. This wasn’t the colonel. This was Roy Mustang. Relaxed, peaceful and vulnerable. Suddenly Ed had no desire to dump a bucket of water on the man, because he got the feeling that he would be dousing the wrong person.

“Bastard,” he muttered to himself, scowling. This was a side of him Ed wasn’t supposed to see, and had no desire to see. He didn’t need his definition of the people around him called into question. Not when he was already questioning his definition of himself. He unrolled his report and tossed the stack of papers on the desk. Let someone else wake him up. Lieutenant Hawkeye maybe. Knowing her, she’d probably use her gun as an alarm clock. Good thing her aim was never off.

Ed turned to leave and the floorboards loudly protested his metal foot. Ed flinched and jerked his head back around to see if he had woken Mustang. He didn’t relish the idea of getting caught sneaking out of the man’s office. Ed held his breath. The colonel stirred, and picked his head up. Ed held his breath. The head flopped back down. Ed held his breath. Dark lashes fluttered against pale skin, and then stilled. Something between a moan and a sigh escaped slightly parted lips.

When he looked back on it later, Ed would conclude that it was the sound that did it. So unlike anything he had ever heard out of the older man. Suddenly he was taken back to a moment weeks ago, and a dark stranger who he now realized resembled nothing so much as the man in front of him. Then, and now, he felt like invisible strings were pulling him along towards a destination that he did not choose, but rather that chose him.

It was only when he felt a pain in his chest that he realized he was still holding his breath. He let it all out in a whoosh, like someone punched him in the gut, which was pretty much how he felt. A thought formed that he was totally unwilling to lay voice to, even in his own mind, because by acknowledging its existence, it might become real.

 _Shit,_ he thought to himself as he whipped back around and bolted from the room, not caring how much noise he made now, because after a revelation like that he was beyond caring about such things.

 _Shitshitshitshitshit…_ He slammed the office door behind him, and started running down the hall as fast as his undersized legs could carry him. His metal leg and flesh leg made a cacophony that announced to the world at large that the Fullmetal Alchemist was running for his sanity. He narrowly missed Lieutenant Hawkeye and her dog whose name Ed knew but couldn’t think of right now because thinking too much could only end badly. He didn’t even utter an apology as he took off again, racing down the stairs and out the front of the building into a sunny world that had just been turned on its ear.


	2. In which Ed screams like a girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

_"But that our Stone is not in beasts, heare how Hermes saith. All things are made according to their nature. Out of man another man is made, and out of a living creature another living Creature is produced, and one thing produceth another like it selfe. How then can the medicine helpe man, it being not fit for man? The Master answeres thus …”_

Bullshit.

It might as well be written in tongues. The letters stared up at him as if daring him to make sense out of them and then mocked him when he couldn’t. There were few times in his life where Ed found himself so out of sorts that research was an impossibility. Normally, a few dusty alchemical texts, notepaper and a pen could make any inner turmoil seem if not curable then at least temporarily bearable.

He had tried convincing himself that he was overreacting, that it was not as big a deal as he was making it out to be.

Oh, but it was. Because he had actually thought …

Shit.

He slammed the book closed, getting some small satisfaction from the thump that echoed inside the cavernous library. He couldn’t concentrate on research when his life, the universe and everything had just been rearranged in a new and disturbing pattern.

The Colonel, Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, Ed's commanding officer, the bastard bane of Ed's existence …

Was attractive.

Not attractive. Attracted. To. He was.

He was attracted to Mustang.

He held his breath, patiently waiting for the world to come to an end. When it didn’t, he put his head down on the table. Maybe if he concentrated hard enough he could just sink through the table, the floor, the ground and disappear into the earth, only reemerging when his life started making sense again. Merely admitting such a bizarre notion made his mouth go dry, his gut and his teeth clench and his eyes squeeze shut in denial.

He had made the vague and nebulous conclusion that he was attracted to men. Even if he had not ruminated on it, meditated on it, chewed on it or whatever one was supposed to do with such revelations, it hadn’t rendered him a nonfunctional wreck. It seemed to go something like this:

_Hormones: “You’re attracted to guys.”_

_Ed: “No shit? How ‘bout that.”_

_Hormones: “You’re attracted to Roy Mustang.”_

_Ed: Total frontal lobe meltdown._

He didn’t even like Roy Mustang. This morning he could have sworn to the god he didn’t believe in that he hated Roy Mustang. He had spent hours on trains extolling the virtues of a Mustangless society to his long-suffering brother. He rarely uttered the man’s name without a “Bastard” in front of it or a “shithead” in back of it. The man was a conniving, lazy, womanizing, sarcastic, manipulative, promotion-obsessed git. And Ed had heard a few things from Havoc about a “miniskirt policy” that made him distinctly ill. So he could not, underline the not, be attracted to the colonel.

He folded his arms over the table and laid his head down on the softer flesh arm. This was not like him, sitting here brooding. He preferred action, not introspection. And the action that seemed most appealing to him right now was the one where he punched the colonel’s face in for the heinous crime of looking far too attractive in his sleep. Unfortunately that would require being in the same room with the man.

The light that streamed in through the windows of the National Library was taking on an orange tinge. He'd best put the agonizing on hold long enough to trudge back to the tiny, depressing dorm room that served as his home in Central City. His brother was waiting for him, probably wondering where the hell he was. Al would ask him how his meeting with the colonel went, of course. He could picture it now; “You see, Al, the lazy bastard was asleep on the job. So I just dropped off the report, drooled over his magnificent visage for a few minutes, decided he was pretty hot, crapped myself, and then ran screaming out of the building. So how was your day?”

Yeah, that would go over real well. It would result in squeaking, stuttering and probably a panic attack on the part of his brother. He imagined trying to revive a fainted suit of armor. He nearly laughed at the thought, but instead yawned into his elbow. What a god-awful day. After half a day of sitting in the library, his ass was almost as numb as it had been when he stepped on the inbound platform at Central Station. And he hadn’t slept for crap on that train. He never could sleep well on trains, even if he was (much to his disgust) the perfect size for lying on the seats. His military issue bunk would feel good tonight by comparison. He felt heavy and bone-weary. He wanted to lose himself to sleep, and forget this day ever happened.

His final thought, before he slipped into unconsciousness between the stacks of the National Library, was that he hoped his sleep would be dreamless.

\---

And his first thought on waking was that his back hurt, he had been drooling, and Roy Mustang’s smirk was about six inches from his face.

So he did what any reasonable person would do in similar circumstances. He jerked up in his seat, screamed like a girl and tried to belt the man with his automail arm.

Mustang avoided the uncoordinated, flailing appendage without even losing his smirk. He stepped back, hands in his pockets, and made every appearance of thoroughly enjoying Ed’s disorientation.

Ed, for his part, stared. Blinked. Cursed. Processed his surroundings. Tried and failed to process the fact that the one person he was hoping not to see for a hundred years or so was standing in front of him. Smirking. He realized that he better come to terms with it soon, because he was probably going to be expected to carry on at least a short conversation with the colonel in the very, very near future. That is, unless he wanted to repeat this morning’s performance and haul ass away from the man as fast as he could. Not that it wasn’t tempting …

This colonel was miles away from the one he had accidentally encountered this morning. The smirk, the posture, the air of condescension. He searched himself for any sign of warm fuzzy feelings towards this insufferable prick. His relief at finding none was overwhelming. He celebrated this victory by putting on his surliest face and engaging in a time honored tradition:

“What the hell are you doing here, you Shit Colonel?”

The smirk got even wider. “Now is that any way to speak to your superior, Fullmetal?” Mustang assumed a put-upon expression. “And after I went out of my way to do you a favor …”

Ed pushed back his chair and stood up in a huff. He couldn’t argue properly when he had to look up at the man. Of course, even standing, he still had to look up.

God he hated being short.

“What favor?” he spat angrily. “The one where you send me hundreds of miles away to some backwater dump on your bullshit errands?”

“You’re the one who wanted leads.”

“Lead my ass!” Ed growled. There was something unsatisfying about arguing in a library voice. “That wasn’t a lead. That was you using me do your dirty work again and passing it off as a lead. What the hell do you take me for?”

Mustang left that one alone. “Actually, the favor I was referring to was for your brother. Imagine my surprise when Alphonse comes knocking on my office door at nine at night begging me to help find his poor lost brother …”

Night? Shit. It only took one look out the window to confirm the lateness of the hour. Ed scrambled to pick up his notes, coat, books … damn, he still had to check those out.

Mustang watched with amusement. “I generously offered to look for you on my way home. It took longer than I expected …”

Ed brushed past the colonel, trying not to drop his armload of books. The jackass could stand and talk to himself all night for all Ed cared.

“You were difficult to find behind that pile of books.”

He whirled around a chucked a book at the smirking man’s head. “WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE’S PRACTICALLY INVISIBLE!”

Of course Mustang caught the book easily, and Ed succeeded in spilling the rest of his armload all over the floor in the process.

He knelt down and began picking them up as fast as he could. For every two he picked up, he dropped one. All he could see was red and his teeth were clenched so hard his jaws hurt. ‘I can’t believe I thought I was attracted to this asshole.’ Ed wanted to get his hands on the man, all right. Preferably wrapped around the bastard’s neck. ‘Pompous, manipulative, sadistic …’

… and now the fucker was laughing at him.

Goddamn it. That evil man was the reason he was going through this. That stinking colonel was reason he raced out of headquarters this morning and hid in the library like a coward, indulging in agonizing fits of introspection. He was going to throw more than books this time. He clapped his hands together and prepared to release an alchemical salvo on the one person he might be attracted to, but definitely hated. Ed was on his knees on the library floor in the middle of the night because of this guy and the fucker was laughing.

Suddenly his hands, possibly his heart and definitely his brain stopped cold.

Because the fucker was laughing.

With no consideration for time, place, or library noise levels, Roy Mustang was laughing. The calculated smirk was gone. It was replaced by the most natural (actually, the only natural) smile Ed had ever seen on the other man. It was an easy, relaxed expression that, before this morning, Ed had never thought the colonel capable of generating. The edges of Mustang’s eyes crinkled where they were squeezed shut from mirth. His head was thrown back, displaying a graceful neck that Ed had so fervently wished to wring a moment ago. Now it occurred to him that he would rather apply something other than his hands to that little spot just below the colonel’s jaw. He wanted to kill the man, kiss him, and then kill him again for making Ed even consider the second option. The dichotomy of the two mutually exclusive desires made his head want to explode. Ed’s world, which had briefly repaired itself, re-sustained a comminuted fracture.

In an encore of his morning performance, Ed again found himself fleeing from Roy Mustang as fast as reasonably possible. He could later commend himself that he didn’t actually run the second time. He vaguely realized that Mustang was calling after him as he disappeared into the stairwell. It was only when he emerged from the library doors into the cool night air that he counted himself free from pursuit. He barely had time to plaster a smile on his face as his brother clanked over to him. Al was so relieved to see him, that Ed was assaulted by a wave of guilt on top of everything else. He spent the walk home spouting apologies and empty reassurances. I’m sorry I worried you Al. I was studying, Al. I lost track of time, Al.

No, nothing’s wrong, Al. Everything’s fine, Al. Really, I’m fine, Al.

Liar.

They were almost at the dorms when something occurred to him.

“Hey, Al?”

“What?”

“What the hell was Colonel Shit doing in his office at nine-o-clock at night?”

Al shrugged. “Paperwork, I think. Lieutenant Hawkeye was there too. She kept talking about ‘making up for lost time’ and fingering her gun. It was kind of scary.”

Ed burst out in the first genuine laugh he’d had today. He’d really have to apologize to Hawkeye for almost running her over this morning. “That’ll teach him to sleep on the job. Lazy bastard.”

Al sighed. “He did go out of his way to help me find you, Brother. He doesn’t seem that bad. You should really try to be nicer to him."

If Al had ears, they would have been ringing.


	3. In which we rewind a little

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

For the record, Roy Mustang was not the most altruistic person in the world.

His decision to set out on a mission to find the military’s most short-statured and short-tempered alchemist was prompted mostly by a desire to get away from Hawkeye, her gun and a mountain of paperwork. For a woman who shot at puppies, she caved amazingly fast when faced with a tearful-sounding, nearly seven foot tall teenaged suit of armor. But then, it would take a person with a heart of granite to remain completely unmoved by Al’s pleading.

And although he was loath to admit it, he was also curious. Namely as to why, according to Hawkeye, Ed had come ripping out of headquarters this morning like he was being chased by wild dogs. Roy had replied to the Lieutenant that that if she added one more sheet to his already insurmountable pile of paperwork, he might follow Ed’s example.

She had not been amused.

Al had a pretty good idea as to where his brother had absconded. Roy left the younger Elric brother waiting less than patiently outside the National Library; the only place Al couldn’t get into, and the one place his brother most likely was. The night librarian greeted him with a respectful bow as he entered. Roy remembered the days when he would have perused the stacks himself, enjoying the simple pleasures of pure alchemical research. Those days had grown less and less with every promotion he received, until he rarely saw the inside of the country’s greatest library at all; one of the pleasures he sacrificed in furtherance of his ultimate goal.

He was mildly surprised to find Ed not in his usual seat. He wondered how the teen would react to finding out exactly how much Roy Mustang knew about him, from the content of his missions down to his favorite seat in the library. He smiled to himself as he made his way through the stacks. It paid to keep tabs on his most volatile subordinate, if only to see him turn red in the face when it came time to submit a report.

In the end, Ed’s brightly-colored coat gave him away. It showed up as a brilliant shock of red from across the library floor. It wasn’t until Roy was practically on top of him that he caught sight of Ed’s blond head, pillowed on his arm, dead to the world.

Roy could clearly remember the only two times he had seen the younger alchemist asleep. Once being the first time Roy had ever set eyes on him. Ed had been a young boy then; bandaged, bleeding and shattered. That Ed had looked small and fragile, and had aroused in Roy the bitter stirrings of pity. The boy had attempted a human transmutation, a fact that should have filled him with disgust. Instead he felt a pained sympathy for this child he didn’t even know. Years ago, Roy had come close to trying the same thing, before Maes Hughes had drop-kicked him back onto the road to sanity. He supposed he could understand what had driven the eleven year old to such a desperate act.

The second time he had seen Ed asleep had been just as memorable. Roy had been the one to take the unconscious alchemist to Shou Tucker’s after he fainted in a dark alleyway, unable to stand the sight of Barry the Chopper’s handiwork. Ed had always assumed that someone else, maybe even Hughes, had taken charge of him that day. He would probably be mortified if he knew the truth. Roy recalled sitting in the backseat of the car, holding the delirious Ed as the boy murmured endless apologies. Roy still remembered Ed clutching at him in his sleep. The weak voice had begged for forgiveness. It asked for absolution, but none was forthcoming. The dead could not give absolution. The proof of that fact was in the innumerable sleepless nights Roy had spent drowning in the memory of Ishbal, burning with fires he had set with his own hands.

He saw too much of himself in Edward Elric.

Roy knelt down to study the face of the slumbering alchemist. It was a rare opportunity; the chance to study Fullmetal without being swung at, sworn at or otherwise insulted. Ed’s was a more angular, mature face than it had been four years ago. He looked solemn and peaceful in his sleep. Contrary to what Roy would have thought, he did not look all that innocent. But maybe that was because Roy knew most of the innocence had been beaten out of him already.

The general consensus from the female population was that Edward Elric was cute as a button. He had actually heard that phrase used on Fullmetal before. That particular woman (some higher-up’s secretary, if he recalled) had most assuredly lost some hearing in one ear. Roy bit back a smile at the memory of Ed in chibi rage mode bellowing, “WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL HE COULD FIT THROUGH THE BUTTONHOLE ON YOUR SHIRT!”

Roy had to respectfully disagree with the female opinion. No one who had seen Edward Elric on the night he lost his arm and leg could ever call him cute. But the boy was striking. Vertical elevation notwithstanding, he could probably have any girl he wanted. Unfortunately for the teenage girls of Central City, no one could ever compete with his brother for Ed’s time and devotion.

Roy wished he could say he admired Fullmetal’s looks from a purely objective standpoint. Unfortunately for him, he always had been partial to petite blondes. He gave into temptation and fingered the end of a long blonde braid. He appreciated the silken texture of strands at his fingertips, as soft as any woman’s. The first time he found himself appreciating Ed’s physical attributes he had been vaguely disgusted with himself. The boy had been scandalously young at the time. Not that he wasn’t now. But he would still be off-limits, even if he wasn’t jailbait. And even if Ed could stand the older man, a supposition that Ed belied loudly and at every opportunity. Roy had bidden goodbye to his last male lover years ago. Something else he had been willing to sacrifice for his ambitions. For an officer trying to claw his way up the military hierarchy, a certain image must be maintained. And for the most part, Roy had never come across anyone who made him want to risk that image. For the most part, he had never looked back.

For the most part.

He suddenly wanted nothing more than to be home in his bed. Preferably after a glass of scotch. Time to rise and shine, Major Elric. Roy gave the braid a quick tug.

The result was immediate and highly amusing. Ed’s peaceful face screwed up in distaste. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking in confusion, his face one big, grumpy question mark.

Maybe that secretary had been on to something after all. He was kind of cute.

Especially when he began shamelessly freaking out. Roy quickly got out of the way of the irate alchemist’s flailing. He didn’t relish getting belted with an automail arm at the end of a long day. He waited for Ed to regain his equilibrium. True to form, it didn’t take long.

“What the hell are you doing here, you shit colonel?”

Business as usual. Roy assumed the smirk that never failed to send the younger man into apoplectic fits. “Now is that any way to speak to your superior, Fullmetal? And after I went out of my way to do you a favor …”

Ed leapt out of his chair in a huff. How did he go from unconscious to breathing fire in less than a minute? “What favor?” The fact that he was trying to argue in a library voice resulted in something between a growl an indignant croak. “The one where you send me hundreds of miles away to some backwater dump on your bullshit errands?”

Roy was trying not to laugh at the spectacle of Fullmetal trying to argue quietly. He shrugged. “You’re the one who wanted leads.”

“Lead my ass!” Ed growled. His face was turning an attractive shade of red. “That wasn’t a lead. That was you using me do your dirty work again and passing it off as a lead. What the hell do you take me for?”

Roy thought about possible retorts, most of which would have Fullmetal adding ‘pervert’ to his list of nicknames for the colonel. He abstained, not so much because he feared the teen’s reaction, which would likely be colorful, loud, and possibly involve heavy artillery. Rather he abstained because such a statement, even made in jest, would be too close to the truth for his own comfort. Revealing too much of his thoughts was not something Roy Mustang did easily, or at all if he could avoid it.

“Actually, the favor I was referring to was for your brother,” he informed Ed. “Imagine my surprise when Alphonse comes knocking on my office door at nine at night begging me to help find his poor lost brother …”

That created a predictable response. Ed scooped up his impossibly large pile of books and charged past the Flame Alchemist, on a mission to return to his brother; the person he had spent the last half-decade living for. Roy didn’t question why he felt the desire to stop him. Maybe he just wanted to prove to himself that he could. And he could. Faster than you could say ‘shrimp.’

And when Ed started flinging literature and inquiring at high volume who the hell Roy Mustang was calling short, Roy knew why he had stopped the short alchemist. The sheer entertainment value of Edward Elric in chibi rage mode was reason enough. Ed was flushed, his breathing was heavy and his eyes reminded Roy of a wild animal ready to pounce.

Ed was hot when he was angry.

This is what he missed when he sent Ed off to what the young man colorfully termed ‘backwater dumps.’ The energy. The predictability. The unpredictability. The insults. The slightly masochistic pleasure of being teased with something you wanted, but couldn’t have. And knowing you could never have it was in itself a liberating thought. It meant you never actually had to do anything about it.

Just sit back, watch, and enjoy.

This was the kind of ending he needed to a day filled with meaningless paperwork and staring down the barrel of Hawkeye’s gun. He felt laughter welling up inside him, and rather than quash it down, he let it out. He laughed because it felt good, it felt comfortable, and damned if life wasn’t more entertaining with the angry runt around. Ed’s rage turned into comedy of errors as he fumbled around, dropping books as fast as he picked them up and grumbling something about a ‘sadistic bastard colonel.’ Roy laughed so hard his sides were starting to hurt. He was laughing so hard he didn’t notice Ed about to pour the full weight of his righteous indignation into an alchemical attack. He didn’t notice Ed staring at him with a fury that morphed into desire-tinged horror. He didn’t notice Ed’s hasty retreat until the teen was halfway to the exit.

“Fullmetal!” For some reason his voice didn’t sound very authoritative when the colonel was trying to choke down a giggle.

Ed didn’t even pause. He charged through the stairwell door and disappeared, leaving Mustang standing there, still clutching the book Ed had thrown at him, wondering what the hell just happened.

Because Ed had just taken off like a devil was at his heels.

And apparently the devil was Roy Mustang.

Usually it took either his brother’s pleading or a few warning shots from Hawkeye to pry Ed away from a sparring match with the colonel. So why the hell did he just run away? Maybe Hawkeye was right. Ed was acting strangely. Ed didn’t run away from much of anything. He was more likely to go charging like a miniature bull into situations where more prudent individuals would head for the hills.

Roy moved to the window overlooking the front entrance below. He waited and watched until Fullmetal emerged, greeted enthusiastically by his younger brother. Roy watched as they began walking away, the pale streetlights reflecting off both Al’s silver body and Fullmetal’s golden hair. He stood there for a moment, even after the two vanished into the darkness. He sighed.

Fullmetal was _so_ getting called on the carpet tomorrow.


	4. In which Ed strategically avoids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

If the colonel was going to call him in, the bastard was going to have to find him first.

As much as his body wanted to sleep in on the morning after his disastrous run-in with Mustang, Ed didn’t want to chance waking up to a summons from headquarters. He refused to think of his actions as running and hiding per se. He preferred to think of it as strategic avoidance. He even bypassed breakfast in the mess hall in favor of hastily obtained sandwiches eaten on a park bench. The fact that they were fairly gross didn’t stop him from wolfing down two of them while Al watched him contemplatively. It was only a matter of time before his brother started asking questions that Ed had no idea how to answer. Questions like what are we doing here, why did you spend all yesterday hiding in the library, and why do you have a neon sign over your head that says “Hi! My name is Ed and I want to nail my C.O.”

Ed choked on his sandwich.

“Brother? Are you okay?”

Must get away. Now. “Fine, Al,” he managed between coughs. “I’m gonna grab something to drink. Back in a minute.” He got up a beat a hasty path across the park, leaving half of his breakfast and his very confused brother sitting on the bench.

What was wrong with him? Okay, maybe he was a little attracted to the colonel. He was willing to tentatively accept the possibility.

But … _that_ … with _him_?

It wasn’t the act itself that was the problem, it was the participants. He knew in theory how it worked. Tab A, slot B and variations thereof. But the thought of Mustang getting all naked and sweaty and … and …

And why did his face feel like it was on fire?

He spotted a vendor on the edge of the park. A colorful cart manned by a little old lady, hocking various snacks, sweets and drinks. He put his disturbing thoughts on hold long enough to pay a couple of cenz and received something could pass for lemonade. He started slowly back across the park, sipping the tart liquid.

In the four years he had known him, Ed had never even seen the colonel even out of uniform. The closest Ed had come was seeing him with his sleeves rolled up and his jacket off. But it was less the uniform than the attitude. Roy Mustang probably made love the way he did everything else; with a smirk on his face, an air of condescension throughout and a cool dismissal at the end. Ed would like to think his future hypothetical sex life would be motivated by something resembling affection. Just because Roy Mustang’s face and body had all the right lines in all the right places, and admittedly Ed appreciated that fact, it was a far cry from wanting to go to bed with the man.

Wasn’t it?

Al was sitting where Ed had left him. Ed could tell that his brother wanted to say something. It was in the way he watched Ed approach. The way he leaned forward. The way the large metal fists clenched and unclenched. The actions of a nervous teenager looked rather absurd when translated onto a huge suit of armor. Ed knew he wasn’t going to want to answer whatever question came out of his brother’s mouth.

“Broth-”

“Books!” It came out as a nervous yelp. Real smooth, Ed.

“What?” Al asked confusedly

“I just remembered. I left a bunch of books at the library last night. Real important books. The Chemical Treatise of Arnold-someone-or-other. I gotta go by and pick them up. You coming?”

Al didn’t even know what hit him. “Uh … Okay …”

Strategic avoidance saves the day again.

“Great! Let’s go!” He grabbed the rest of his breakfast and took off so fast that Al actually had to hurry to catch up. Ed filled the walk to the library with pointless chatter about what he had read yesterday. Al couldn’t get a word in edgewise, which was exactly the way Ed wanted to keep it. He was lucky it was a short walk. He barely remembered anything from those books, thanks to his preoccupation with a certain bastard colonel. It wasn’t until he saw the uniformed military guards outside the library that he remembered what it was he was trying to avoid. And who. Aside from the dorms, this is probably the first place the colonel would think to send his underlings look for him.

Maybe if he got in and out in a hurry …

Ed left Al on the steps and walked nonchalantly past the guards, trying not to draw attention to himself. He saw a pair of eyes flick down, note the silver chain hanging from his pocket and flick back up again. He stepped through the huge double doors with a sigh of relief. Ed scanned the lobby for anyone who looked like they might be out to drag him kicking and screaming back to headquarters. Nothing. So far so good. He was halfway to the stairs when -

“Major Elric!”

Aw, crap.

The librarian behind the desk motioned to him. Ed walked over like a man headed to his execution.

“Major Elric?”

Gulp. “Yes?”

“Colonel Mustang –“

Here it comes …

“-left these here for you.”

Huh?

The librarian reached behind the desk, pulled out a stack of books, and plunked them down on the counter in front of Ed. Ed recognized the books from last night, including the one he had chucked at the colonel’s head.

He must have looked as confused as he felt, because the librarian frowned. “These are the books you need, aren’t they? The Colonel said you would probably be in for them today.”

Ed nodded stupidly.

The woman smiled. “Go ahead then. They’re all checked out.”

“Um, thanks.”

At least the books didn’t _look_ booby trapped. He regarded them for a second before he picked them up. When they didn’t explode in his hands, he was forced to admit that maybe, just maybe, Roy Mustang had done something altruistic. For him. He half expected to see flying pigs filling the midmorning sky as he emerged from the library. Mustang even managed to mess with his mind in absentia. The considerate gesture was something Ed would have expected out of a human being, not the colonel. Damn it. Like he needed any more surprises right now. Ed hurried down the steps to meet his brother.

Al looked at the pile in his arms. “That was fast.”

Ed managed a noncommittal grunt and palmed half of the armload off on his brother. “Public library. Let’s go.”

While nothing could surpass the National Library for the size and quality of its collection, Central’s public library was as fine a civilian repository as could be found anywhere. Unfortunately it was about as far away from the National Library as one could get. Ed spent most of the way brooding and keeping on the lookout for blue uniforms and suspicious black military vehicles.

He was going to have to see the colonel soon; he had no illusions about that. Mustang was his superior. The man gave Ed his missions, accepted his reports and delivered the occasional lead on the Philosopher’s Stone that made all suffering inherent in the first two worthwhile. He just needed some time, damn it. He sighed.

“What’s wrong, Brother?” It was not a casual question. Nor was it accusatory. It was a simple statement that Al _knew_ something was wrong, and as his brother, he expected Ed to tell him what.

Ed had done many things to his brother over the past four years. Lying had not been one of them.

“Later, Al,” Edward replied quietly. It was a promise.

Al asked with equal solemnity, “how much later?”

He could put his brother off. He could try and dance around the subject and buy himself some time. But frankly he was tired. Strategic avoidance might work on the colonel, but he couldn’t very well avoid Al. And his brother deserved far better from Ed than to be given the runaround. Ed saw the Central Public Library building, just coming into view, and made a decision.

“Library,” he said firmly. “When we get there, we’ll talk, okay?”

Al sounded relieved. “Okay.”

As the steps of the library loomed closer, Ed put the full weight of his genius alchemist mind to work on the complex problem of how to tell his brother what was wrong without actually telling him what was wrong. Definitely nothing about what he wanted to do, or not do, with the colonel. That would require him to explain why he, a male, was attracted to the colonel, another male. He was really hoping to save that particular discussion for another time. Like a couple hundred years from now.

So what did that leave him? ‘I walked in on a sleeping colonel and had a revelation, but I can’t tell you what about. I spent all day brooding in the library, but I can’t tell you why. I ran away like a coward twice in one day, but I can’t tell you what from.’ That was lucid. And he was out of time, because there they were at the steps of the library, and now he would be expected to walk up them, go inside, and proceed to explain to his brother something he hadn’t even successfully explained to himself. So it was with great relief that he received an unexpected, if brief, stay of execution.

A feminine voice called from somewhere above them, “Ed-chan! Al-chan!”

Ed was known by many names in Central alone; ‘Fullmetal,’ ‘Edward,’ ‘Major Elric,’ and by one man in particular, ‘midget.’ But only one person called him ‘Ed-chan.’

Gracia Hughes waved at him from the top of the stairs with one hand, while the other hand held the wrist of the straining Elysia, who had just caught sight of her favorite nii-sans. It had been quite a while since he’d last seen Lieutenant Colonel Hughes' wife and daughter. Elysia was sprouting like a weed. She must have grown an inch at least.

Ed wondered if it was wrong to be jealous of a four year old.

Gracia led her daughter down the granite steps before she let Alysia loose on her unsuspecting victims. The little blond girl bounded over to Ed and flung her arms around one of his legs. Ed noticed with an inward cringe that she chose the automail one. Elysia apparently had no compunction about embracing metal appendages however, because she just gave him a squeeze and then moved on to wrap herself around Al’s leg as well.

Ed smiled warmly at his brother, who, if he had been capable, would be grinning like a very happy fool. Ed knew how much it meant to his brother to be treated like a real person.

“Ed, Al!” Elysia chirped once she had her fill of hugging. “Did you come for story time too?”

Ed and Al looked questioningly at Mrs. Hughes, who chuckled. “Alysia just came from story time. Didn’t you, sweetie?” She put a hand on her daughter’s pigtailed head.

Elysia gave an exaggerated nod. “We read a book about a dragon, and a princess and a prince. And then we read an even better book about a frog who turned into a prince, but there was no dragon in that book and …” Elysia launched into a detailed dissertation about the merits of dragons versus frog princes.

Gracia smiled affectionately at the Elric brothers and talked over her daughter’s chatter like it was unobtrusive background music. She probably had a lot of practice. “How are you boys doing? I didn’t know you were back in town.”

Ed nodded, replying loud enough to be heard over the babbling Elysia. “We’re good, thanks. We just got back yesterday. How are you and the Lieutenant Colonel?”

“Oh, we’re all just fine. Maes and I were talking about you two just the other day.”

Ed looked over at Al, who was crouched down, listening to the ramblings of the four year old girl as she regaled him with tales of story time. “You were talking about us?” he asked Gracia. “What about?”

“Just how we’d like to have you over for dinner the next time you’re in town.”

Ed smiled. “That sounds great. We’ll have to do that sometime.”

“How about tonight?”

Ed was taken aback. It wasn’t like he and Al had any plans. And Gracia Hughes had to be one of the best cooks in Central City. Unfortunately the price paid for a meal at the Hughes household involved listening to hours of fatherly gushing courtesy of Maes Hughes. Ed weighed his options. “Thanks, but we wouldn’t want to impose or anything.”

Gracia laughed. “Don’t be silly. It’s not an imposition, it’s an invitation. I’m sure Maes would love to see you boys.”

The ‘potential playmate’ radar that existed in all little girls went off, and Elysia began hopping up and down with excitement. “Ed! Al! If you come over you can meet Max!”

Ed wasn’t sure he even wanted to know, but apparently Al did. “Who’s Max?” Al asked Elysia.

“He’s got black hair and yesterday he threw up on the carpet!”

Now Ed really didn’t want to know. Gracia rolled her eyes. “Elysia’s kitten,” she informed them.

“Oh.”

Gracia corralled her bouncing daughter with an efficiency that would shame a seasoned wrangler. “So we’ll see you at six o’clock?” Gracia asked them in a tone that was less a question and more a statement of fact.

Ed glanced over at his brother, who looked positively gone on the idea. It might have something to do with the fact that someone had mentioned the word ‘kitten’ to his animal-loving brother. Ed resigned himself to an evening of looking at the probably hundreds of family photos Hughes had amassed since their last visit. “Sounds great, thank you,” he replied graciously.

Gracia looked pleased. “Good. We’ll see you boys then, right Elysia?”

“Right! Bye Ed! Bye Al! Have fun at story time!” The child waved furiously as her mother led her away.

Ed watched Gracia and Elysia walk hand in hand down the street, feeling like he had just been through the eye of a four year old, pigtailed hurricane. There was one thing to be said for it, he supposed. That was the first five minutes of the day where he hadn’t thought about Roy Mustang at least once.

Speaking of which, he still had some explaining to do. Now.

Ed trudged up the white granite library steps with his brother in tow. The wizened old librarian behind the desk waved at them as they walked in the door. The public library was probably one of the few establishments in the city where Al didn’t get stares from the help due to his hulking chrome physique. Al was a regular here when the brothers were in town. Al would often do his own research here, while Ed was combing through the National Library.

The pair picked a quiet, secluded table in the corner of the second floor. Ed gratefully unloaded his armload of books. Sometimes Ed envied his brother’s indomitable strength. Right before he remembered what Al had sacrificed to get it.

Al laid his own books down and lowered himself into a chair that barely accommodated his large frame. He sat there, patiently watching his brother take his own seat.

And watching. And watching. And watching.

Suddenly Ed was hit with an attack of nerves that made all the previous ones seem like a tranquil afternoon in the park. Al’s opinion of him meant more to Ed than most anything he could name. How would Al react to finding out that his brother was so different from the person Al might have thought he was? Ed was still reeling from the realization himself.

In this particular staring contest, Al blinked first. “What happened yesterday, Brother?”

Short answer: I saw, I liked, I ran like hell. Ed didn’t think that would cut it.

“You didn’t threaten to assassinate the Colonel again, did you? They take that stuff kind of seriously in the military.”

Ed scowled. “No, I didn’t. Not that the son of a bitch wouldn’t deserve it if I did.”

“Then what happened?”

Ed could feel his face getting warm. He felt the overwhelming desire to examine the grain of wood they used on the library table. Ed took a deep breath. “What happened was …” No that wouldn’t work. “You see, Al…” No, that was no good. “It’s just …”

It’s just what? Incomprehensible? Disturbing? Really really really wrong?

“It’s … Personal?” Al asked uncertainly.

“Yeah … No!”

If this didn’t qualify as personal, nothing did.

“Yeah. I guess you could say it’s personal,” Ed admitted.

Al sat quietly for a moment, like he was weighing his words, trying to gauge the right thing to say. “Brother. If it’s something … you know … personal, you don’t have to tell me.”

“No, Al! It’s not-“

“Brother!” Al cut him off sharply. “Listen to me, okay?”

Ed blinked in surprise.

Al didn’t wait for Ed to answer. “I thought you were acting strange for a while now. And then you’ve been acting really weird since yesterday. And then when you didn’t come back to the dorm all yesterday, I got worried…”

Ed felt a stab of guilt all over again.

“… And then I went to see the Colonel, and he told me you never came to see him.”

Ed gave an indignant yelp. “Yes I did! It’s not my fault the bastard was asleep on the job!”

Al ignored the outburst. “My point is, I didn’t know what happened to you, and I got worried. You could have called, you know.”

Ed had the good grace to look sheepish.

Al was too busy examining his own hands to notice. Either he suddenly found them fascinating, or he was avoiding his brother’s gaze. “But if it’s something personal … you don’t have to tell me everything. Not that you can’t talk about it! That’s not what I meant. I mean, you can tell me if you want. You can tell me anything … if you want … but … ” Al stopped and sighed in frustration, as if what he was trying to say wasn’t coming out at all like he intended.

Al was quietly staring at his hands for so long that Ed was about to say something. But the younger Elric brother finally spoke again, and when he did, it was quiet, resigned and somewhat sad. “… you’re allowed to keep some stuff to yourself, you know. As long as your're okay. As long as it's not ... you know ... serious. It’s … it’s alright to have your own life.”

Ed wanted to protest. He didn’t want this life. This life was confusing and embarrassing and made him want things he was pretty sure he had no business wanting. He wanted his nice, simple life back. When it was just him and Al and all that mattered was their single, uncomplicated and shared purpose. He wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Al had offered him a way out of one of the most embarrassing declarations of his short existence. So he took it.

But still, his brother was pretty amazing. Ed felt like a couple tons had been lifted off his shoulders. In a handful of sentences Al had managed to dispel the cloud of anxiety that had been hovering over him like a suffocating blanket. His brother had rescued Ed from floundering in his own personal well of mortification. Although, at the moment, his savior looked a little scary.

Al glared at him, his eyes flashing. “I mean it, though. Call next time.”

Ed raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I got it, I got it!”

Al nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned his attention to the mountain of books. “Now where’s this ‘Treatise of Arnold Someone-or-other’ you were talking about?”

Ed handed him the tattered volume, and Al began leafing through it. Ed watched him for long moment.

“Hey, Al.”

Al looked up from his book.

“Thanks.”


	5. In which we guess who's coming to dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

Ed wished Gracia Hughes would teach him how she managed to always get people to do what she wanted without actually asking, or without even the person realizing he had been put to work. 

That was how the Fullmetal Alchemist ended up with table setting duty while his brother played with Elysia and the famous Max. 

Amazing smells wafted from the kitchen where Mrs. Hughes was putting the finishing touches on dinner. A wave of almost unbearable nostalgia and wistfulness washed over Ed as he laid out the silverware. He quashed down the feeling. The smell of a home cooked meal, setting the table, the laughter of playing children. It was the rhythm and flow of a family, a reminder of all that he had lost. 

_Selfish._ He chided himself harshly. _Al lost even more than you. You still have a body, minus a few parts, but better than nothing. Al has nothing._ He glanced over at his brother, who was testing Max’s reflexes with a catnip mouse on a string. _No body, not to mention living with the constant fear that people will find out there’s nothing behind that metal cage._

He must have been standing there for a while. Hi didn’t even notice Gracia come up behind him. “Nice work with the table Ed. Thank you for the help.”

“My pleasure Mrs. Hughes. But I’m curious. Why six places?”

Gracia smiled, “Maes is bringing a guest for dinner.”

Guest? Who could Hughes be bringing for a guest? Another alchemist? For a brief moment a horrible thought entered his brain, but just as quickly Ed dismissed it. The fates couldn’t be that cruel in only a couple of days. 

“Hey Ed! Come see what Max can do,” Ed’s ecstatic younger brother called from the living room.

Gracia chuckled. “Go on, Ed. I can handle the rest.”

Ed into the living room and plopped himself in a comfy overstuffed chair. Al and Elysia were both sitting on the floor, engrossed in their cat and mouse game, giggling like maniacs. “Look at how high we can make him jump!” Al laughed.

Ed grinned, loving seeing his brother in such high spirits. It was hard for Ed to think that every moment spent like this was a moment he wasn’t working on getting Al and his bodies back. He felt a twinge of something akin to guilt for avoiding that bastard Mustang all day. If he had just bitten the bullet, they might already have their next assignment and be ready to leave tomorrow. Instead he had just delayed the inevitable. He still had to face Mustang. In the end he had only screwed himself. 

He vowed to march into the colonel’s office first thing in the morning and demand his next assignment, if there even was one. In the bright light of the Hughes’ living room, surrounded by brothers and children and kittens, with the sweet smell of what he presumed was pie wafting through the air, the whole sordid affair with Mustang seemed miles away and frankly ridiculous. It had to have been an anomaly, a hormonal hiccup or something. How could he possibly be attracted, out of all the men and women in the world, to the one person on the planet he could stand the least? 

Tomorrow would be all business. He would come prepared. He would not be baited, he would not be distracted, he would not be … tempted? He shuddered at the thought. He would get his assignment and he and Al would haul out. That would serve the dual purpose of getting back to the search for the stone and putting as many miles between him and Mustang as possible.

The sound of a door opening heralded the return of Maes Hughes. If there was any doubt as to who was at the front door, an inhumanly cheerful voice chimed out “Elysia-sweetie, Daddy’s home!”

Elysia cut loose with a high pitched cry of “Daddy!” and, kitten forgotten, ran hell-bent for leather to greet her doting father.

“Daddy! Daddy! Come see who’s here!” Elysia came back to the living room dragging her father by the hand. “Ed! Al!" she called. "Daddy brought Uncle Roy for dinner. It’s like a party!”

_Uncle Roy?_

From behind Maes Hughes appeared the smirking, scheming, sneaky, (sexy?), abhorrent visage of Ed’s arch-nemesis. And before he could stop them, the words just leapt out of Ed’s mouth;

“You have GOT to be fucking joking!”


	6. In which we take a time out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist, Alchemist of the People, had been in many dire situations before. He had been locked up, beat down, burned, shot, kicked, insulted and injured so many times that he could probably keep Winry in business singlehandedly. But now he was in a new predicament, one from which there was no escape, no reprieve.

He was in time-out.

Just punishment, he supposed, for dropping an F-bomb in front of a preschooler. And from the look in the doting father’s eyes at the deflowering of his daughter’s virgin ears, he figured he was lucky to get off without serious bodily injury. He acquiesced without complaint. It was the least he could do; preserve in the youngest Hughes the idea that people who said and did bad things always got punished. Ed hoped she was a long way from finding out that particular concept was often the exception rather than the rule. 

He figured he had already done about half of his five minute sentence. The time dragged not only because he was sitting with nothing to look at but the plaster wall, but because he was being watched. Not glanced at, not looked at, but eyes-boring–holes-in-the-back-of-his-head _watched_. And he was pretty sure he was being smirked at too.

Ed squirmed in his seat and fought the urge to bang his head against the wall. What piss-poor luck. He spent all day avoiding the man only to end up eating dinner with him. He wondered briefly whether the colonel had known he was going to be there. Had he let Ed go all day running around like a maniac, all the while knowing that by seven o-clock they would be sitting at the same table? 

God, that would be just like him. The Bastard.

A tug on his elbow jerked him out of his thoughts. Elysia stared up at him admiringly. “Wow. You didn’t even cry. I always cry in time out. You’re pretty brave.”

Ed couldn't supress a small smile, leaning over conspiratorially. “Special alchemist training," he imparted. "They teach you how not to cry in time out.”

Elysia’s eyes got even bigger, if that was possible. “Really? Do you think you could teach me?”

_Yeah, you just picture yourself pummeling Colonel Mustang’s face in and everything’s roses._ “'Fraid not. Special state secret,” Ed said somberly. 

“Oh,” said the disappointed Elysia. “Mommy sent me to get you for dinner. Time out’s over.”

Finally. The best part of this whole night. Gracia Hughes’ cooking. Ed rose from his punishment chair and headed for the dining room, acutely aware that he was still the focus of Roy Mustang’s stare as he lounged on the couch.

“It’s true,” the colonel intoned in what Ed considered to be one of his most condescending tones. “Ed did pass the no-crying-in-time-out-training. However the listening-to-your-superiors-training, the-not-blowing-up-towns-training, and the controlling-your-temper-training are a different story." 

“Well maybe if the superior wasn’t so condescending and smug.”

The smirk widened, “and of course he failed the height requirement.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HIS FEET DON’T REACH THE FLOOR FROM THE TIME-OUT CHAIR!???”

Mustang, having scored his point, rose and ambled his way to the dining room, still with a self-satisfied smile. “Coming, Fullmetal? Don’t want to be late for Gracia’s dinner. It would be rude.”

Ed, still fuming, let himself be pulled by Elysia into the dining room. Apparently the youngest member of the Hughes household was in charge of the seating arrangement. She informed Ed and Al, matter-of-factly that they were to sit next to her. Which left Ed to the left of Elysia, to the right of Hughes, and right smack-dab across from Colonel Roy Mustang.

_Shit._

He began the dinner warily, waiting for his nemesis to launch barbs and jibes across the dinner table.

Nothing.

Apparently even Roy Mustang didn’t have the stones to disrupt the sacred ritual of dinner in the Hughes household. Conversation was polite, and non-work related. Gracia, the consummate hostess, kept the conversation flowing and the plates full. Ed ate with gusto, stopping frequently to cast wary glances across the table. Unlike the elder Elric brother, who had often been described as a human vacuum cleaner when it came to food, Mustang ate slowly, pacing himself, intermixing his enjoyment of the meal with conversation. 

Schmoozing, that’s what they call it. And boy was Mustang good at it. Schmoozing even with the people closest to him. Was there a real person underneath that layer of bullshit? Maybe.

Maybe not.

And by the time dinner was completed and everyone prepared to dig in to Gracia’s famous apple pie with whipped cream, Ed decided he didn’t care. In that spot where the Mustang induced sexual pull had taken up residence there was now nothing. Not even a twinge. No little voices telling him to touch Roy Mustang, to Kiss Roy Mustang, to do various lascivious acts with Roy Mustang. Nothing.

Until what Ed would forever refer to as the whipped cream incident.

When the glob of whipped cream met the Colonel’s white shirt, Ed remembered thinking how human that was. Smug colonels didn’t dump food on their shirts, normal people did. And smug colonels certainly didn’t reach down with one long index finger, scoop up the offending dessert and deposit it neatly between his parted lips. Mustang even gave the index finger a quick, gentle suck and went back to finishing his dessert, totally oblivious to the fact that for the umpteenth time in two days, he had traumatized Edward Elric.

_The Colonel sucks,_ Ed thought dumbly. _He sucks fingers. He uses his lips for something other than smiling smugly. He uses his lips for whipped cream and lovers (which if rumors could be trusted numbered among the hundreds). He kisses with those lips. What else does he do with those lips?_

_What would I like him to do with those lips?_

That was when he lost it. He jumped up from his seat like someone had just set a match to his rear. He dimly heard Gracia Hughes and his brother ask if he was okay. He stammered something about fresh air and a hurried apology and bolted through the kitchen and out the back door.

_Oh my God._ Ed steadied himself on the railings of the back porch, willing the warm stirrings in his lower abdomen to stop, dear God, stop. Why was this happening? Did he have no control over his thoughts where the colonel was concerned? Why oh why hadn’t he just gone this morning gotten his assignment and he’d be that much closer to putting miles between him and Mustang.

_Because you were afraid that just this was going to happen,_ his traitorous brain interjected. At least if he had gone to Mustang’s office this morning he wouldn’t have quite so many witnesses and quite so much explaining to do.

“Brother?”

Speaking of explaining.

Alphonse Elric had to turn his body sideways to make it through the back door. “Brother? What happened? Are you okay?”

This time there would be no easy out. Alphonse would not go away without an answer. He deserved an answer. They were all each other had. But what answer was he going to give? It would be so easy to lie _–Geez, Al, I just really had to fart. Didn’t want to let one rip in there. You know how it is.”_

Except Al didn’t know. Every biological function from farting to smiling to crying was denied him. 

Ed had never lied to his brother. Ever. He wouldn’t start now. Not even to spare his own image in Al's eyes. But where to start? How much to say? And was the Hughes’ back porch really the place?

Who was he kidding? There would never be a good time or place for this.

“Al, I have something to tell you.” Ed sighed heavily. “It’s going to surprise you and I hope you don't think I'm a total shit.”

Anyone but Ed would not be able to read the subtleties in voice and posture of this giant suit of armor. But they were brothers. And he knew. He could read the puzzlement, the slight undertone of hurt, the concern.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than what I imagine. And you’re my brother, my family. Nothing is going to change that.”

Ed smiled; he should have known Al would react that way. His heart exceeded the size of his armor.

After checking quickly to make sure no one was around the back door who might overhear, Ed took a deep breath, faced his brother and bit the bullet. “Al, I’m gay. “

“Huh?” Alphonse squeaked.

“You know,” Ed’s metal hand clenched and unclenched in his nervousness. “I’m attracted to men. Gay.”

Al was silent for so long that Ed began to panic. _He must be horrified. He has a freak for a brother…. Well, a bigger freak than before._

“And you being gay is why you ran out of dinner just now? I don’t get it.”

“Oh. That. That was because that bastard colonel did that thing with the whipped cream,” he explained matter-of-factly.

Al was getting more confused by the moment. “What whipped cream thing?”

“The licking thing. With his finger.” Ed let out another heavy sigh, as if he were about to unburden the weight of the world. “I’m attracted to the colonel.”

“HUH?!? B- b-b-but you hate the Colonel. At least you’re always saying you do.” Al’s surprise was so great it bordered on panic.

“Damn straight I hate him,” Ed growled. “I don’t want to be attracted to that bastard. It just happened.”

Al let that sink in for a moment. When he spoke again, his tone had completely changed. “The Colonel didn’t … do … anything to you did he.” The tone implied that had the Colonel done so, Al would be doing something with his face.

“No! God no!” Ed denied vehemently. “He doesn’t even know, thank god. He’d make my life even more miserable.”

“But how can you, you know, want to do things with someone you don’t even like?” Al asked in confusion.

Ed’s frustration was palpable. “Fuck, I wish I knew. Then maybe I could stop it.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Ed set his brow with determination, “The only thing I can do. Get the next assignment and you and I get the hell out of town as quick as possible.” Ed looked his brother in the eye as best he could given their difference in height. “This whole thing, this gay Mustang thing, means nothing. What matters is the stone. What matters is getting our bodies back.”

Al thought about this for a moment. Then he nodded. “And I don’t think anything different about you. You’re still my brother. And we’re still in this together.”


	7. In which Mustang gets too close for comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

_”My office, oh-nine hundred, Fullmetal. I’ve got a job for you. Don’t be late.”_

Ed examined his watch for the third time in as many minutes. _Quarter past nine. And after Mustang was so high and mighty last night_. He clenched his teeth in annoyance. He was probably keeping him waiting on purpose. Getting even for Ed avoiding him all day yesterday. Ed had spent the day stewing and hiding like a coward. Now he couldn’t wait to get this over with. He might even be on a train this afternoon, if he was lucky. He and Al, on the road, all right with the world again, miles away from Central and the man that had given Ed more grief in the last three days than he would have thought possible. And the colonel had given him a lot of grief.

And while it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest, having come clean to Al about his sordid secrets, it had taken multiple reassurances from his big brother to convince him that Ed wasn’t delivering himself into the hands of potential molestation. 

_It’s not like he’s the one attracted to me,_ he had assured Al. _And I still hate his military, blue-uniformed guts. Nothing’s going to happen._

Nothing.

Finally the door to the Colonel’s office swung open and out marched Hawkeye, looking as prim and militaristic as usual. Ed took the opportunity to apologize for nearly running her over on the fateful day that all of this started.

Hawkeye smiled graciously, “Don’t mention it Edward. I could tell you were in a hurry.”

 _Oh, but wouldn’t you be surprised if you knew why,_ Ed thought to himself grimly as he watched the woman’s retreating back.

Four steps brought him to the office door; six more steps brought him across the Colonel’s oversized office to a carefully gauged distance from the man himself. Ed figured it was as far away as he could stand without actually appearing to be avoiding the man. A respectful distance minus the respect.

Mustang was making a show of not looking up from his paperwork. Far be it from Ed to pass up the opportunity for the first jab.

Ed smiled smugly. “Running late already? What’d you do you lazy Colonel? Fall asleep again?”

Mustang added a signature to one last document before looking up. “It’s called working, Fullmetal. Something you might be doing right now if you had come in yesterday like you were supposed to.”

He had no answer for that. “Just make with the assignment already. Where am I going?”

It was Mustang’s turn to smirk this time. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. His every mannerism told Ed that he was about to receive some very unwelcome news courtesy of the Colonel. As if he hadn’t had enough of _that_ in the last few days.

“Going, Fullmetal? What makes you think you’re going anywhere?”

The bastard was trying to throw him. Not going to work. Ed was onto him. “You said last night you had a mission for me? So what backwater Podunk am I headed for this time?”

The smirk widened. “You, my Fullmetal friend, are staying right here in Central.”

“Eh?” He wasn’t going anywhere? 

Mustang rose from his desk, holding a fairly thick dossier. “Your job is right here in Central.” He held the folder out to Ed, who, upon deciding it really wasn’t going to bite him, took it in hand. Mustang was standing too close to him for comfort, but he would be damned if he would back away. He flipped open the file and pretended to scan it.

“Joshua Kellig, the Green Earth Alchemist. Specialty in biological alchemy, especially plant life.”

Edward could actually smell the other man. Roy Mustang had a smell. Aftershave mixed with something else he couldn’t name. Ed commended himself on keeping his voice rock steady. “What of him?” Ed asked flippantly.

“No one’s seen him since last week,” Mustang elaborated. “His lab is in shambles and all of his notes are in code.”

Ed couldn’t stand that smell anymore. He nonchalantly ambled over to the window, still pretending to read the folder. _Please don’t let him follow me_. “And this is my problem how? We need leads on the Philosopher’s Stone, not a missing Dirt Alchemist.”

Mustang sighed. “ _Green Earth_ Alchemist. And we have reasons to believe he may have been researching human transmutation.”

That got Ed’s full and complete attention. He turned so fast his braid fanned out behind him. “What? How?”

Mustang shrugged, leaning back against his desk, “That’s what we hope his notes can reveal, if you can decode them. It also might be nice to know if the man himself is alive or dead.”

“So you want Al and I to decode his notes, find out what he was doing and what happened to him?”

“In a nutshell, yes. And make no mistake Fullmetal,” Mustang, despite Ed’s silent pleas, advanced on the younger alchemist. “This case is important to both me and those above me.” He advanced closer, too close, even closer than before when Ed could smell the man’s aftershave. 

The Colonel bent down, eye level with Ed, their faces a scant few inches apart, no hint of the usual smirk on the older man’s face. “I expect regular updates. Daily even. I don’t appreciate it when my alchemists avoid me. It makes my job difficult. Am I understood?”

 _Too close. Way too close._ He could see the texture of the man’s lips for god’s sake. Ed was mesmerized. He was thrown back in time to last night, only now it wasn’t his own finger the Colonel placed in his mouth, but Ed’s. No, not Ed’s finger, but Ed’s own lips. Tongue licking, lips massaging, teeth lightly biting. What would it feel like? And then after his lips came his neck-

“Understood.” It came out too loud and high pitched, Ed knew, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. He was surprised his vocal cords were functioning at all. He decided to see if his legs worked as well. They did. All the better for getting the hell out of here before he did something he would never live down.

Mustang’s voice followed him into the hallway, “Eighteen hundred tomorrow, Fullmetal. Your first report. Don’t be late!”


	8. In which Mustang finally gets it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

_When the hell did this happen?_

Roy Mustang stood alone in his office, his eyes following the disappearing Fullmetal. He tried to come up with some explanation for the younger alchemist’s behavior other than the obvious, but came up dry.

The dilated pupils, the heavy breathing, the nervousness, the hasty retreat.

If his varied and considerable experience in the subject of human attraction was correct, there was only one conclusion to draw. 

_He has the hots for me_ , Mustang thought incredulously. He didn’t even realize that the thought was bringing a slightly predatory smile to his face. Ed was actually getting snug in the drawers because of him. Incredible.

He probably shouldn’t be as flattered as he was by this realization. He also probably should in no way consider allowing it to go any further than a one-sided adolescent crush. There was every reason in the world why courting the Fullmetal Alchemist was an insane, nearly suicidal idea. Ed was too young, he was a subordinate, and clearly had no idea how to deal with even his own sexuality. 

He was also one of the most stunning creatures Roy had ever set eyes on, male or female, full of the kind of fire that made you want to dive in and see how hot it burned. _What would it feel like to tap that boundless energy?_ he wondered wistfully. Unbind that permanent braid and bury his face in the honeyed locks. 

Mustang looked out his office window in time to catch a glimpse of the young alchemist bounding out of the front of HQ and down the steps, the ever-present red coat making him an easy mark. He continued to follow the slight figure until it disappeared from view. Roy sighed. Whatever else this mutual attraction might be, it was definitely a complication. It would be one thing if Ed could keep control of his raging hormones and practice some subtlety. But Edward never was good at artifice where his emotions were concerned. All you had to do was call him short to get ample, high-volume evidence of that fact. 

The temptation to pursue the older Elric brother was strong, despite all wisdom to the contrary. But thankfully Roy had the self-control that Ed lacked. Could he bring himself to be responsible for stealing the last vestige of innocence the teenager had left? He was the adult. The responsible one. Actively pursuing the other alchemist felt vaguely like pederasty.

The alternative was to wait for Ed to come to him, even if that never happened. Right now it was far more likely that Ed would continue to run away from him than toward him. Of course, starting tomorrow, the two alchemists would be seeing quite a bit of each other. The prospect of a daily game of sexual cat and mouse gave him a sense of anticipation that he hadn’t felt for anyone, male or female, in a long time. If there had been anyone in the office with the Colonel, they would have seen the mother of all smirks spread across his face.

Edward Elric wanted him. But did he want him enough to make the first move?

The flame was there, all Mustang had to do was fan it a little. 

Flames were his specialty, after all.


	9. In which things backfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

After hours of pouring over the notes of Joshua Kellig, Ed had to admit that, without commenting on his skill as an alchemist, the man had been a master of coding. Or was, if he was still among the living. 

To say that the man’s lab was in shambles was an understatement. He and Al had walked into a cramped, dirty room that looked like it had fallen victim to an earthquake and a hurricane simultaneously. The entire room was covered in a layer of ash-like dust that made Ed’s lungs burn if he made the mistake of inhaling it. Mustang told him Kellig disappeared last week? From the layer of dust it appeared the lab hadn’t been used for months. Add another puzzle to the mystery of Joshua Kellig.

The Green Earth Alchemist’s notes had been strewn from one end of the lab to the other. Bound volumes in some cases and hastily scribbled loose leaves in others. The brothers immediately got to work compiling the notes and volumes, clearly delineating two distinct types of documentation; personal journals scrawled in several notebooks, and alchemical journals strewn with array designs and chemical formulas. Daily entries covering several months. And all of it stopped, dated a week ago.

By the end of the first day, to brothers were in agreement. While the notes didn’t definitively prove that Kellig had been working on human transmutation, they also didn’t prove that he _wasn’t_. The key would be deciphering the code, which seemed to be based on some kind of runic that neither brother had seen before. It was similar enough to existing codes to allow them to make a partial translation, but what they read only muddied the water further. Deciphering it was going to take time. 

Time. Ed briefly checked his watch. _Less than an hour until I have to report to Colonel Jackass,_ he thought sullenly. What the hell was the purpose of dragging him on the carpet on a daily basis like this? _Power tripping cretin. Probably just wants to remind me of whose dog I am._ It was true that Ed and his Brother were given considerable leash in their search for the Philosopher’s Stone. That was on the road, however. In the military microcosm of Central, however, Mustang apparently wanted to drive home who was in charge.

Dammit, it wasn’t like he had anything to report at this point. He could picture it now; “No, Sir we have no idea of the whereabouts of Joshua Kellig. No sir, we have not made any headway in decoding his notes. No sir I am most definitely not looking at your ass.”

That was when Ed discovered that you could indeed choke on your own saliva, sending him into a coughing jag, which made him inhale more of that damned dust, which made him cough even harder. Al clanked over to him and began thumping him on the back, suddenly the absurdity of it all hit Ed like a blunderbuss. He sat there in the dust coughing and laughing, sending his brother into a panic at the thought that the older Elric, after all that they had been through, had finally lost his mind.

_I’m fine, Al. Just sitting here thinking about tapping the Colonel’s ass, that’s all._

He croaked out something about dust and fresh air and made for the door of the lab, pushing it open and relishing the crisp, dust-free air that greeted his lungs.

He was also greeted by the sight of Lieutenant Havoc, omnipresent cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, leaning out the window of a standard black military vehicle. “Major,” the man greeted him, his bearing typically nonchalant.

“Huh?!?” a.k.a. _What the hell are you doing here_?

Havoc shrugged, “Colonel’s orders.”

Ed felt his face burning red. _That bastard. He sent his lackey to get me just to make sure I showed up._ “Thanks for your trouble, Lieutenant, but I’ll walk,” he growled contrarily. He stuck his head back into the cramped, dusty lab. “Al! I’m going to report to Colonel Asshat. I’ll see you back at the dorms, okay?”

Al came clanking to the doorway. “Do you want me to come with you, brother?”

 _And what? Protect me from being molested by the big-bad Colonel?_ “No need. Why don’t you finish up here and bring some of these notes back to the dorms. We can work on translating back there. I can’t stand working in this dustbin.”

Al sounded unpersuaded, but acquiesced anyway.

He waved at Havoc dismissively and headed off in the direction of headquarters.

“You’re gonna be late if you walk!” Havoc called after him.

“Then I guess the poor Colonel will just have to cool his heels,” Ed called back over his shoulder. “Hope he doesn’t have any hot dates waiting for him.”

Havoc had been right, of course. By the time Ed reached HQ, night was beginning to fall and he was considerably late. If nothing else, though. The walk had served to clear his head a little. He would keep it brief and to the point; report their lack of progress and get out. What the hell could the man expect after all? They had only been at it for one day. No mooning, no letting himself get caught up in whatever psychosexual pull the colonel seemed to exert on the entire female and at least one member of the male population of Central City. He was the Fullmetal Alchemist, dammit, he had more skill than most alchemists twice his age, and had been through more in his life than the average person would ever dream about. He and Al had spent years on their single-minded mission, not letting themselves be deterred by any adversity. He would be dammed if he would let his own hormones turn him gibbering spineless idiot. 

He found Mustang reclining in his chair, feet up on his desk, looking for all the world like the lazy bastard Ed knew him to be. 

Clearly the Colonel felt the need to point out the obvious. “You’re late, Fullmetal.”

Making himself comfortable on the couch, Ed took this opportunity to turn a smirk of his own on the lazy so-and-so “What? I make you late for a date or something?”

Mustang chuckled. “Not at all. I’m curious, however why you didn’t utilize the car I sent for you.”

“And I’m curious why you’ve picked now to start micromanaging us. You want a report, here it is; Kellig is missing, which you already knew, his notes are in code and his lab is in shambles, which you already knew. He may or may not have been conducting experiments involving human transmutation, which you already knew. We’ve barely made headway on deciphering Kellig’s notes. Until then, I have nothing to report. So remind me why I’m here again?” Ed snapped.

Much to Ed’s dismay, the Colonel got up from behind his desk and advanced on his subordinate, coming to a standstill directly behind Ed’s couch. Ed kept his gaze straight ahead, refusing to be drawn in by whatever game Mustang was trying to play. If he didn’t look at the man, he could almost convince himself that he was sitting there talking to himself.

“You’re here to give me your initial impressions. Your gut instinct,” Mustang intoned from directly behind him. Edward had a feeling this was how prey felt when it was being stalked.

 _Keep it cool, Elric_ “With all due respect colonel, as you well know alchemy is a science. My report should be based on evidence and hard facts, not my guts.”

“Instincts, Fullmetal, instincts. It’s important to listen to your instincts.” A gloved hand snaked its way down to his shoulder. Ed tried to suppress an involuntary shudder at the contact. 

_What the hell is he doing,_ Ed thought desperately. _Is he_ Trying _to make me crazy??_

If a touch on the shoulder made him antsy, Mustang’s lips next to the shell of his ear nearly made him lose his mind. “What I want to know right now is what your instincts are telling you.”

Ed inhaled sharply at the sensation of the Colonel’s breath caressing his ear and neck. The shock of it made him turn his head only to find his face inches from his superior’s. 

_His eyes are so dark,_ Ed thought dumbly. They were a sharp contrast to the colonel’s pale skin. His lips were thin, but sensuous, slightly parted. His breath coming even, but quick. Almost as quick as Ed’s own. Mustang’s hand traveled from Ed’s clothed shoulder to the bare skin of his neck, sending a, involuntary thrill through the young man’s body. The warm butterfly-wing feeling took up residence again in Ed’s lower abdomen; the effects of sheer animal attraction making themselves felt.

Two incredible thoughts rose into Ed’s mind, first was that it would be insanely easy to simply negotiate those scant few inches and press his lips against Mustang’s own. The desire to do just that was belied by the second thought.

Which was that this bastard knew _exactly_ what he was doing. 

_He’s playing with me_ Ed thought incredulously. _He’s jerking me around. He knows I’m attracted to him and he’s getting his jollies at my expense._

The thought he was being played acted on Ed like a bucket of cold water, taking the warm butterfly-feelings and replacing them with a cold rage. After all he had been through in the last three days; the angst, the self doubt. To have his feelings made a mockery of made him simmer with anger.

 _Wait. Feelings? This has nothing to do with feelings,_ Ed insisted. _Hormones. Chemicals. Testosterone. Not feelings. I have no feelings for this cretin._

Ed stood up quickly and without warning sending Mustang momentarily reeling with surprise. True to form he recovered his aplomb and his smirk quickly. 

“Sir. With all due respect,” Ed intoned coldly, “I have given you all the information I have at present. With your permission may I be dismissed? I have an early day tomorrow.”

The blank look on the colonel’s face betrayed nothing of what he was thinking. “Permission granted, Fullmetal. And next time take the car. I don’t like to be kept waiting."

Ed was unable to keep the scowl off his face as he made a curt bow and marched hastily out of the Colonel’s office.

Not that he would admit it to anyone, but even the walk back to the dorms, in the cold night air, wasn’t enough to erase the memory of the colonel’s touch.


	10. In which we break the ratings barrier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

This time, it would go differently, Ed assured himself. This time he was ready.

The door to Mustang’s office loomed large in front of him, seeming to take in the entire field of his vision. This was partly due to (he was loathed to admit) his own sort stature. But also, he recognized, behind it lay the intimidating and largely unknown personage of the Colonel himself. A man impossible to read, making it so easy to interpret the worst from his actions. 

_I will_ not _let him make a fool out of me._ Ed assured himself. _Whatever sick game he’s trying to play – I’ll be ready for him._

The office door swung open easily, the opening reminding him of a gaping maw. Once inside, surely he would be gobbled up. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Although lately he wasn't so sure.

He found the Colonel not behind his desk as expected, but sitting on the office couch, feet propped on the coffee table. His uniform jacket was nowhere to be found and the sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons undone, revealing a bit of pale collarbone. 

The unexpected situation threw Ed for a moment, but he quickly regained his aplomb. Sure he was used to seeing the man completely covered from neck to toes, but it would take more than a change of dress and a new seating arrangement for Ed to go off his game plan. He just had to keep his distance. Get in, report, and get out. That was the plan.

“Edward Elric reporting in, _sir_.” Voice steady, confident. So far so good.

The colonel sported a lazy smile the left an unsettled feeling in the pit of Ed’s stomach. “You don’t have to stand in the doorway, Fullmetal. Have a seat.”

 _Nuh-uh. Fool me twice, shame on me._ “With respect, Colonel, I’d rather stand.” 

There was a hardening of the line of Mustang’s mouth. Suddenly the smile wasn’t so benign anymore. “That’s an order, Fullmetal,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

This wasn’t going the way Ed had hoped. The young man’s brow furrowed in frustration, before realization made his eyes widen in horror.

 _I thought there were two couches here before?_ As it was, the only place to sit was – 

_Oh, crap._

Ed made his way over to the Colonel’s couch with all the enthusiasm of a man headed for the gallows. And when he sat, he made sure he was as far away from his nemesis as possible and that his rear was touching as little of the couch as he could manage without actually falling off. He glanced nervously at the door, gauging the distance in case a quick get-away was called for. 

The Colonel turned a lazy eye towards his subordinate. “Now where were we?”

“Huh?” Ed’s face was a wary question mark.

“Yesterday, when you left me so … abruptly. I believe we were in the middle of something.” Mustang shifted himself forward, leaning into the younger, frankly horrified alchemist. If his lips came any closer to Ed’s ear he could probably open his mouth and take a nibble. 

“You know, I was very disappointed when you left like that. I was really starting to enjoy myself.”

Ed’s legs were apparently on strike from the rest of his body. Despite his frantic commands by his brain to flee, he remained firmly rooted to the couch. 

The Colonel, emboldened by Ed’s continued presence, placed a bare hand on Ed’s upper thigh. Even through his horror at his own seeming paralysis, Ed was able to register that this was one of the few times he had seen the Colonel without his gloves on.

The fingers of that had traced lazy circles, coming far too close to that part of his anatomy which, in a daring betrayal of its owner, was making it very clear that it, at least, was appreciative of the Colonel’s ministrations. 

“And if I’m not mistaken,” Mustang purred, “You seem to be enjoying yourself, too.”

 _No!_ The rational part of Ed’s mind protested. But his voice had apparently gone on strike along with his legs, because all he could manage was a throaty groan that sounded more like encouragement than anything else.

That was apparently how the Colonel took it, because next thing Ed knew he found himself straddling the older man’s lap. That part of his that had grown hard and aching with want found a matching counterpart in the colonel.

 _He’s hard._ Ed thought, unbelievingly. _He wants me as much as I want him._ The realization sent an involuntary thrill through him. 

Ever one for experimenting, Ed tentatively rolled his hips forward pressing himself against Mustang. Hearing the Colonel gasp softly, eyes widening confirmed Ed’s hypothesis.

 _I have power_ , he thought incredulously. _I have power over him. I can manipulate him. I have something that he wants._ Even if that thing was Ed himself. 

Thus at the tender age of fifteen, Edward Elric became aware of the concept of sexual politics.

Mustang’s hands began to roam restlessly, creeping under Ed’s shirt and mapping the bare skin of his stomach and chest. 

_Two can play at that_ , Ed thought, a sly smile stretching across his face. For the first time since this whole debauched affair had turned his life upside-down, Ed felt like he was beginning to learn the rules of the game.

Ed reached out to trace Mustang’s exposed collarbone, but instead of going lower, Ed trailed his fingers up the side of the older man’s neck, then coming to rest threading through his hair, fingernails lightly scraping his scalp. 

The Colonel showed his appreciation by rocking his hips up into Ed’s, a mirror of Ed’s action from earlier.

“Equivalent exchange, ‘eh, you bastard,” Ed groaned, not even realizing he was speaking aloud. The throbbing between Ed’s legs was growing more urgent, causing him to grind harder against Mustang. They settled into a rhythm that steadily rose in pace and intensity.

Mustang’s eyes bored into Ed’s own like they were lit from within. “You should see yourself, Ed. My god, you look incredible.

The intimacy of hearing the Colonel using his given name, a rare occurrence to be sure, hastened his own approaching climax. He could feel himself coming to the crest, his eyes still locked into Mustang’s own, grinding against the other man in a synchronized dance. And in the next instant it was upon him and he cried out wordlessly, freefalling, both senseless and sensory overload. It was a moment before he registered that he was being spoken to.

“Brother? Brother! Are you alright??”

Ed opened his eyes to find Al, his shiny armor illuminated by the dim light of the dorm’s only window, leaning over him. 

“Brother! You were crying out in your sleep. Are you okay? Are you having bad dreams again?”

Ed realized, mortified beyond belief, that his lap was soaked. He quickly turned his back to Al, praying to god his brother didn’t notice anything.

“I’m fine Al. Just dreams.” 

Just dreams.


	11. In which we break Ed's brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

Roy Mustang looked disbelievingly at the piece of paper in front of him.

_  
Making progress on decoding notes. Appear to be double encrypted. Continuing to work on deciphering second encryption. No clues as to whereabouts of Joshua Kellig.  
PS: You never said I had to report in person, Colonel Pervert.  
Signed,  
Fullmetal  
_

Mustang read the note twice and proceeded to burst into laughter so loud Lieutenant Havoc (who had fully expected to be chewed out for not managing to bring the stubborn alchemist in person) began to wonder if their CO was dropping some marbles.

If there was one thing Fullmetal had no shortage of, it was brass, Mustang marveled. He dismissed Havoc and prepared to go home for the night. He would give Fullmetal today’s round.

But tomorrow’s would belong to the colonel.

***

If there was one thing Ed had in short supply (if he evened deigned to think of himself and the word “short” in the same sentence) it was patience.

No sooner had they broken through the encryption on Kellig’s notes, they found a second encryption, this one more annoying than the first. All the notes, all dozen or so journals were coded to read like assembly instructions for everything from tricycles to four-poster beds. 

 

Ed had cursed so wildly at the realization that his younger brother had to calm him down.

There was no way Ed could explain to his brother why he was so upset at the sudden setback. Every day spent on this assignment was another day he had to face that bastard colonel. He had no illusions that yesterday’s written report would be accepted as the norm. Today he fully expected to be dragged kicking and screaming by the Colonel’s chain-smoking lackey back to the man himself. For whatever nefarious plans the scheming pervert could dream up.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, even his nights offered him no solace anymore. The colonel had invaded his dreams, blurring the lines between willing and unwilling, between pleasure and horror at his own behavior.

To avoid thinking about it, he worked like an alchemist possessed. Pouring through the journals and the reference materials he had borrowed from the Central Library, he worked on deciphering the common factors between each of the entries. If they could simply find out the elements that were being used, it would go a long way into explaining what Kellig was trying to transmute. It also might go a long way towards proving or disproving the theory that he was working on human transmutation. 

Then there were his personal diaries, which frequently referenced certain entries in his alchemical diaries. If Ed had to hazard a guess, something was going on in his personal life that was steering his alchemical research. That didn’t bode well. 

So far Ed and Al had deciphered several of the elements that Kellig was working with, water and carbon being among them. While these were key elements in human transmutation, they were also key elements the transmutation of millions of other things. They were some of the most abundant elements in alchemy.

Maybe it would help to ask around and find out what was going on in Kellig’s life before he disappeared. And for that information, as much as he was loath to face the fact, he might be best off asking the Colonel who his associates might be. 

Speaking of evil incarnate, it was nearing the time for his report. Any second now Havoc would pull up in that shiny black military vehicle and whisk him off to almost certain sarcasm. 

No sooner did the thought enter his mind did Ed hear a honking from outside. Apparently Mustang's laziness was rubbing off on his subordinates. “That’s my ride,” he told Al with a sigh. “I’ll be back as soon as I finish my report to Colonel Bastard.”

Al, thoroughly engrossed in translating, waved one armored hand. “Be careful, Brother.”

 _Be careful of what, getting groped?_ It was funny, he thought to himself as he headed out to the street, how his younger brother could be so overprotect-

Suddenly his brain broke. Sitting behind the wheel of the car was not Havoc, but the man himself. He regained his aplomb just in time to let out the first insult. “The Colonel actually drives himself for once. I didn’t even think you knew how to drive the way you get chauffeured everywhere.”

“At least my feet can reach the pedals,” the colonel shot back with a smirk.

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING A TINLY LITTLE MIDGET BEAN WHO CAN’T SEE OVER THE STEERING WHEEL OF A TOY CAR???”

Mustang chuckled. “As much as I enjoy watching you have a temper tantrum there on the sidewalk, why don’t you actually get in the car?”

“Why?”

“One: so you can give me your report, two: if we don’t get to the restaurant by six they’ll cancel the reservation,” the Colonel informed him matter-of-factly.

“… huh?”

“Dinner, Fullmetal. The meal that comes after lunch but before dessert. Call it an apology for my … less than professional behavior the other day.”

Ed’s brain broke for the second time in one day. Was the Colonel actually apologizing to him? And inviting him to dinner? “My life just gets weirder and weirder,” Ed muttered to himself.

“What was that, Fullmetal?”

It was Ed’s turn to smirk. “I was just saying I hope you have deep pockets, Colonel, because I skipped lunch today.” Ed crossed over and got in the passenger side of the car. He noted with surprise that the Colonel was out of uniform. Wearing plain black slacks and a pressed white shirt, he looked like a different person. Certainly far more approachable. 

Mustang began driving. “Why don’t you give me your report now? A crowded restaurant is hardly the place to discuss these things.”

Ed nodded. “There seems to be ties from Kellig’s personal life to his alchemical experiments. He keeps referencing certain experiments in his personal journals. Unfortunately they’re both in code. We’ve been able to decipher some of the elements involved in his experiments. They could be used in human transmutation, but …”

Mustang’s mouth set in a grim line. “But?”

"But they could be used in the transmutation of almost anything. There’s certainly evidence that Kellig _could have_ been working on human transmutation, but nothing that proves it.”

Mustang looked thoughtful. “You say you think there’s a connection to his personal life?”

“His personal journals indicate as much, yes,” Ed answered.

Mustang paused for a moment. “About six months ago a man was murdered in a mugging in the outskirts of the city. The man was rumored to be Joshua Kellig’s lover.”

Ed’s eyebrows shot up. “Whoa. I thought you military types frowned on that sort of thing.”

Mustang shook his head. “It’s more of a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy, but no, they’re not exactly keen on it. That’s why I say ‘rumored.’ HQ and the brass know it happens, as long as the parties don’t draw too much attention to it, they’re usually overlooked.” 

The gears were turning in Edwards head. “So if Kellig was working on human transmutation, the most likely subject was-“

“Samuel Branch, his supposed lover,” Mustang supplied. 

They spent the rest of the ride in silence. Both of them minding their own thoughts. Ed, for his part, never envisioned riding in a car with Roy Mustang, having a conversation about gay affairs while on their way to dinner. He wondered what kind of karma he must have racked up that resulted in this.

When they arrived at the restaurant, which was far swankier than Ed had expected, the valet hurried to take the car, and the maitre d’ greeted the Colonel with what could only be described as over-solicitousness.

 _He must come here often._ Ed thought to himself. _Probably brings lots of dates here._ The thought irritated him for some reason.

The Maitre d’ ushered them off to one of the more private tables in the back of the restaurant. “Good for not having your conversations overheard,” the Colonel explained.

Ed’s stomach growled as he read the menu. He truly was famished. Everything sounded so good. He was about to ask the Colonel for a recommendation when the man supplied one anyway.

“I would go for the rib-eye, if you’re in the mood for meat. They have the best steak in town. Or the chicken and potato dumplings are good too.”

A big juicy steak sounded perfect to Ed. He felt a little guilty when he saw the price of it on the menu, but the Colonel _had_ recommended it after all.

Ed was surprised how easily the conversation flowed between the two of them. Ed told tales of his training with Izumi Curtis. Roy told him several truly embarrassing stories about Hughes that had Ed in stitches. Ed learned that Roy had a sister who lived in East City who wrote often and visited sometimes. And of course a few good-natured barbs were traded.

Ed found himself wondering who this person was who sat across from him. He carried the name of Roy Mustang, but did not dress, speak or smirk like Roy Mustang. Was this the real Mustang? Or was this a show for his benefit, to put him at ease before the other shoe dropped. Ed freely admitted to himself that the man was dangerously attractive, the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, showing just a bit of collarbone, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up past the elbows, lending him an air of casualness that suited him well.

Ed’s admiration of his dinner companion was put on hold when the food arrived. Ed dove in with gusto. Mustang for his part, picked at his own food, but seemed to be getting far more enjoyment watching Ed’s imitation of a human vacuum cleaner.

Ed noticed this about halfway through his meal. His eyes narrowed slightly. “What are you lookin’ at?” he asked Mustang pointedly.

The colonel's lips merely quirked in an enigmatic smile that seemed far too intimate for the circumstances.

Ed found himself blushing. To cover it up he lowered his head and resumed shoveling his dinner in his mouth. 

When the meal was over, the waiter inquired about dessert. Before Ed could get a word in, Roy had ordered a coffee for himself and a strawberry parfait for Ed.

Ed was about to protest when Mustang interjected. “Trust me on this one. You won’t be sorry.”

And he wasn’t. The dessert was delicious and cool and fruity, and Ed refused to entertain the possibility that something so delicious might have milk as an ingredient. The perfect end to a heavy meal. He was so blissed-out that he barely noticed Mustang reaching over and stealing a slice of strawberry from the top. 

He did notice him eating it though. Roy popped the strawberry in his mouth and proceeded to lick the cream off his thumb and finger. The intimacy of the action caused the heat to rise to Ed’s face again. God, could he spend five minutes with this man without blushing?

And when the meal was over and the tab was paid (Mustang had to have quite a poker face not to have his eyes bug out at _that_ bill) the two departed. The valet brought the car around and, to Ed’s consternation, Mustang held the door for him to get in.

“I’m not a woman, you know,” Ed told him archly.

“Believe me,” Mustang replied, his eyes filled with something Ed could not lay name to. “I’m very aware of that.”

The colonel asked him if he wanted a ride to the dorms, or back to Kellig’s place. Since Al was most likely still working, he picked Kellig’s. The two spent the rest of the ride in relative, companionable silence. 

When they arrived at their destination, Ed felt the awkwardness of the moment. “Uh ... thanks, I guess. For dinner.”

“Thank you for the company,” Roy replied with a smile that, much to Ed’s disbelief was genuine. Suddenly it all fell into place, the dinner, the dessert, the holding of the door, everything. Ed’s brain broke again. Three strikes, you’re out.

“Well, I better get back to work,” Ed stammered. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ed got out of the car and headed as quickly as he could to the door of Kellig’s house. He was breathing heavy and his face was flaming red as he raced in and slammed the door behind him.

Al took one look at his brother and panicked. “Brother! What’s the matter? You look terrible.”

Ed looked at his brother in wide-eyed horror. “Holy Shit. I just went on a date with Roy Mustang.”


	12. In which Roy does a little thieving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

For once, Mustang really was trying to concentrate on the mounds of paperwork Lieutenant Hawkeye kept bringing him. 

But his mind kept drifting back to the previous night. That was the first time in a long time he had spent that amount of money on a date without getting so much as a trip to second base. But when Edward Elric was the prize, one had to tread lightly and slowly and watch out for land mines. 

He didn't doubt that the investment would be worth the payoff.

The more time he spent with the young alchemist, the more enticing the prospect of a conquest became. The conversations they had shared last night had showed him a new side of his subordinate, something beyond the stubborn single-mindedness and the occasional stature-negating rant. The teenager possessed a sharp, dry wit, a keen intellect, and a passion for alchemy which went well beyond his mission to find the philosophers stone. 

Mustang found himself keenly attracted to the duality that existed in the elder Elric. He was masculine, to be sure. Hard and stubborn and determined as all hell. But he was also innocent in the ways of people, of relationships. He was a stranger to his own sexuality. That innocence, that _newness_ was like an aphrodisiac.

He found himself not only attracted to the body of Edward Elric, but the person of Edward Elric. That hadn’t happened to him in a long time. He usually deliberately avoided romantic attachments that went beyond basic physical attraction. To put it lewdly, he usually liked them hot and dumb. It kept things uncomplicated.

While Edward Elric was hot, he most certainly wasn’t dumb.

~*~*~*~

Edward stifled the fifth yawn in as many minutes. Sleep had been hard to come by last night. After getting over the initial shock that his first date had been stolen by Roy Mustang, he then had to process the disquieting fact that he had _liked_ it. What had started out as a one-sided crush seemed to be on its way to becoming an affair, and for the life of him Ed could not figure out how the hell this had happened.

At first he considered the fact that the colonel was toying with him. That was the possibility which most fit the image he had of the man. It was either that or he had to consider the unthinkable; that Colonel Roy Mustang, Central’s most notorious womanizer, had wined and dined him last night simply because he had wanted to. 

Was it possible that _Roy Mustang_ was attracted to _him_?

The prospect of the Colonel harboring an attraction for him was almost as world-shattering as the realization he had a hard-on for the Colonel. And also unlikely. Roy Mustang wasn’t gay. The entire female population of central knew that. That left only one possibility: that he swung both ways. Possible. 

Damn. And to think that a matter of days ago he had been safe and secure in his confirmed dislike for the man. Now he was sitting there contemplating the very real possibility that they might be mutually attracted to each other. And he was pretty sure they had gone on a date together. And had enjoyed it. And he was sitting here thinking about these things when he was supposed to be working.

He shook his head in a physical attempt to get his brain back on track. He had a job to do. A job that, once completed, meant that he and Al were free to go on the road again, hopefully. Far away from dates and sleepless nights and attractive Colonels. 

He looked over at his brother, who was engrossed in his work, several volumes spread out in front of him. His visage was a clear reminder of where his priorities lay. Al came first, before everything. Their mission came first. Always. 

~*~*~*~

Mustang was reading a particularly boring report from a particularly boring alchemist, waiting for the appointed hour. Any minute now Ed would come walking through the door, releasing him from the tedious and unbearably dull task at hand. Hawkeye had driven him like a slavemaster all day and he was rapidly reaching his saturation point. 

The sharp rap of automail against his office door told Roy Mustang his wait was over. 

Usually Ed strode into his office like he owned the place; all confidence and swagger. This time he still walked in like he owned the place, but to the practiced eye (and Roy had a lot of practice watching Edward Elric) there was a clear undercurrent of uncertainty. But in typical Ed fashion, he was doing his best to bluff his way through it.

The young alchemist carried a grease stained bag from which came an enticing mix of sweet and spicy smells.

“Xingian?” Roy asked.

“Yup,” Ed answered. “Equivalent exchange. This time dinner’s on me. Hope you like spicy fried noodles and eggrolls.”

Roy grinned. Damn but Ed could be so cute when he wanted to be. “Love them,” he answered honestly.

They moved to the two office couches. Roy brought them each a glass of water, which they would undoubtedly need for the spicy food. Taking seat on opposite couches, they proceeded to supper and conversation.

They discussed Ed’s progress on the Kellig case, or lack thereof. They were still stuck on the second encryption. But Ed was confident it was just a matter of time. Unfortunately, the further along they got, the more likely it appeared that Kellig had indeed been dabbling in the forbidden science of human transmutation.

Roy took this opportunity to study Ed in his natural habitat. He had been on his best behavior in the restaurant last night. Now he was sprawled on the office couch, booted feet on the coffee table, slurping up fried noodles like a starving man.

He must have been staring, because Ed took notice and umbrage. “What’re you looking at?” Ed asked warily.

Honesty was always the best policy. “You,” Mustang replied.

Ed blushed and shoved another forkful of noodles in his mouth.

Definitely cute. Roy couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

They made short work of the food. The conversation was not flowing as freely as it had last night. Ed was clearly preoccupied. 

It was Roy who spoke up first. “It’s getting on. Do you plan on working late again tonight?”

“Yeah,” Ed answered. “Al’s waiting for me at Kellig’s place.”

“In that case, let me give you a ride there on my way home,” Mustang offered.

Ed had no reason to say no, despite the fact that he was wary of being in that close proximity to the man for that length of time. The Colonel put on his coat and locked his office for the night and they both walked out to the car. Ed had hoped they could spend the ride in silence, but it was not to be.

“Do you two work late every night?” Mustang inquired.

“Yeah. What of it,” Ed replied defensively.

Mustang frowned. “I know I said this mission was a high priority, but there’s no reason for you to work yourself to the bone over it. I don’t suppose it would do me any good to tell you to take it easier?”

“Nope. This is how we work. Get the job done fast so we can move on to the next one. Or have you forgotten that Al and I have a purpose. Have you forgotten I’m in this army for a reason?” Ed’s eyes narrowed.

“The Philosopher’s Stone.”

“We _will_ find it,” Ed said vehemently. “We’ll get your Kellig job done, then we’ll get back on the road. This is just a detour.”

 _Of course_ , Mustang thought. How could he have forgotten? Ed lived and breathed to get his brother’s body back. He felt the sharp twinge of shame when he realized he was slightly jealous of the younger Elric. It was stupid. If anything, he should feel sympathy for the hapless kid, a disembodied soul in a suit of armor.

But what must it be like to be the most important thing in the life of the young man sitting next to him? To have his total, unconditional devotion? To be the focus of such single-minded attention?

They pulled up in front of Joshua Kellig’s house. The lights were on, a sign that Al was still in there, chipping away at the coded documents.

“Well, Fullmetal. Thank you for dinner.”

Ed shrugged. “It was payback for the other night.”

Mustang smiled. “Of course. Equivalent exchange, yes?”

Ed nodded. He placed his hand on the door handle to step out. He stalled.

“Colonel?”

“Yes?”

“About the other night,” Ed asked cautiously, “What exactly was that?”

Mustang played dumb. “Dinner, I think.”

Ed glared at him. “Don’t play ignorant. It doesn’t suit you. I mean why. Why take me out to dinner?”

“Is it so strange to treat one of my subordinates to a meal?” Mustang asked. 

Ed answered the question with his usual brutal honesty. “Yes. Quite frankly, Colonel, your reputation as a skirt chaser is second only to your reputation as a cheapskate.”

Mustang chuckled. “Not all reputations are deserved. I would think you would know that by now, Fullmetal.”

“And anyway,” Ed continued. “When you treat a subordinate you buy him a sandwich and a cup of coffee. You don’t take him –“ Ed stopped abruptly.

Now Roy was curious. “Don’t take him where?”

Ed muttered something unintelligible.

“What was that?” Roy pressed.

“You don’t take him on a date,” the younger man growled.

Mustang smiled slyly. “Ah, is that what that was?”

Ed’s face was red. Suddenly he looked uncertain. “Was it? A date I mean?”

Mustang leaned towards Edward, backing him against the passenger door. “It was if you want it to be, Fullmetal. Do you?”

“Of course not!” Ed protested loudly, his face positively scarlet.

“Your actions say otherwise. You provided the second date tonight. I thoroughly enjoyed it.” He brought his face within inches of Ed’s own.

“You better back off,” the red-faced teen growled, “Unless you want to get belted with automail, Colonel or no.”

Mustang smiled. “You won’t do that. You’re attracted to me. It’s obvious. You’re terrible at hiding it, by the way.”

“You willing to bet I won’t smack you one?” Ed threatened.

“I’ll take my chances. It won’t be the first time I’ve been slapped after giving my beautiful date a goodnight kiss.”

Before Ed could process what Mustang had said, he took the initiative. He spanned the few inches left between them and pressed his lips to the teen’s own. 

The kiss started innocent enough. Almost chaste. But when Ed put up no resistance, Roy deepened the kiss, lips parting. The first time Roy’s tongue lightly brushed the seam of his lips, Ed started, like he had received an electrical shock. To steady the young man, Roy brought a hand up to rest against the back of Ed’s neck.

Roy surprised himself. His heart was beating like a drum with the exhilaration of the moment. He was no fresh faced teen getting his first kiss, but for some reason this one made his heart race like it hadn’t done in years. And when Ed’s arms came up and encircled his neck, he felt a rush of yearning. He wanted more than a kiss. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of Ed’s body. He wanted to find out what spots made him scream, which spots made him whimper, which parts made him cry out in pleasure.

He wanted Edward Elric in the worst way.

Reluctantly he ended the kiss. They were both breathing heavily. Ed’s expression was glassy eyed for a moment, until he got his bearings back. Then he did something Roy didn’t expect. 

Ed slapped him. Hard. Then calmly let himself out of the car and disappeared into the Kellig house.

Roy sat there in shock for a moment. His hand covering his smarting cheek. At least Ed had used the flesh and blood hand to do the dirty work. Roy chuckled, not in the least discouraged. The kiss had shown Roy his willingness; the slap had shown Roy his innocence. A reaction born from embarrassment. Roy’s chuckle grew into a full blown laugh. He laughed until tears threatened to run down his face. 

It had been a long time since he laughed like that. From sheer exhilaration. 

He had stolen Edward Elric’s first kiss. A smarting cheek was a small price to pay for the honor.


	13. In which Mustang is not boyfriend material

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

When Roy Mustang’s lips descended on his own, it sent a shock through Ed’s entire body. It was like being pleasantly electrocuted on the lips. As the smell and taste of the other man filled his senses he realized how badly he had wanted this to happen, and the thought terrified him. Ed offered no resistance. Why would he? Who would protest something so pleasant, he thought hazily.

What started out as a simple, almost chaste kiss deepened. Mustang’s tongue invaded his mouth, brushing against Ed’s own. Ed started. The intimacy of the act they were sharing overwhelmed him, and to no small degree, frightened him. It frightened him how much he had desired this, how much he was enjoying it.

And how much he wanted more.

Almost of their own accord, Ed’s arms came to encircle his partner’s neck. He supposed he should be embarrassed. They way he was so easily played, like some kind of instrument. The way he was being so wanton. Encouraging Mustang to continue, to give him more of this experience that made his blood race, and his heart pound, leaving him breathless.

Ed almost whimpered when the Colonel’s lips parted from his own. He sat there in a daze for a few seconds, basking in the warm feelings the kiss had created. Then he looked at Mustang. Really looked at him.

The older man was breathing heavy, his pupils dilated, his face slightly flush. It was the look in his eyes that Ed didn’t know how to react to, those eyes that told him there was nothing that Roy Mustang would rather do than eat him alive.

So he did what he always did with things that made him uneasy and that he wasn’t sure how to deal with. 

He used violence.

The slap resounded in the closed-off interior of the car.

Ed didn’t even stick around to see the look of surprise on Mustang’s face. As calmly as he could, he opened the car door and walked briskly into the Kellig house.

He tried to play it cool. It was obvious that he failed when Al began drilling him on what was wrong.

“What happened, Brother? You’re all red? Are you alright?” Al asked from his seat on the floor. 

“I’ll be fine Al,” he replied. It was the truth. He just had to get Roy Mustang out of his head. God, his lips were still tingling from that kiss. And his hand was still smarting from smacking the bastard.

Al was unconvinced. “No, really. You look really red. Are you sure you don’t have a fever?

Perhaps he did have a fever. Perhaps this whole affair was a delusion of his overheated brain. Any minute now his fever would break and he would wake up and discover that this entire week had been vivid, fever-induced dream.

Fat chance.

Ed went over and sat next to his brother. “Al, if I tell you about it, will you promise not to freak out,” Ed asked with trepidation.

“Depends on what you’re going to tell me,” he said honestly.

Fair enough. So Ed dropped the bomb:

“I just got my first kiss.”

Complete and utter silence.

“From the Colonel.”

Again, complete and utter silence on the part of Al. Maybe Ed broke his brother’s brain, not that he had one to break, not in the physical sense.

After a long few moments, Al finally spoke. “He didn’t … you know … make you do anything, did he?” The tone of Al’s voice indicated he would be making a personal visit to the Colonel if the answer was yes.

Ed sighed. “No, Al. He didn’t make me do anything. You know I can hold my own. I almost wish I could say he did, but I was a willing participant.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence for a while, not even maintaining the pretext of working. It was Al who spoke first.

“Brother?” His voice was hesitant.

“Yeah, Al?”

“Can I ask … I mean … What was it like? Kissing someone I mean.”

Edward knew Al. He was always trying to get people to describe their sensations, their experiences, since so much of that was denied to him in his armor body.

Ed shrugged. “It was okay.” _It was like an alchemical reaction going off in my brain. It was like being flooded with warmth after standing out in a cold rain all day._ It had been, in a word, indescribable. But he wasn’t about to tell Al that.

“Just okay?” Al pressed.

“I guess it was … it felt kinda good,” Ed said awkwardly. “It kinda took be by surprise. One minute we were just sitting there, and the next minute he just … kissed me. And then I slapped him.”

“You slapped him??” Al asked incredulously. “He kissed you and you slapped him?”

“Yeah. I didn’t appreciate being taken by surprise like that,” Ed explained.

“And so you slapped him? I don’t know Brother, but isn’t slapping a man for kissing you kind of … girly?”Al asked.

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING A SHORT GIRLY ALCHEMIST WHO SHOULD BE WEARING PIGTAILS INSTEAD OF A BRAID?”

“Whoa. Calm down, Brother. I didn’t say all that.”

“Besides,” Ed said grouchily, “punching a superior officer is a court marshalling offense.”

“And slapping one isn’t?”

Ed scowled.

“So, is the Colonel … like … your boyfriend now?” Al asked.

“No way!” Ed protested loudly. “That’s enough about Kissing Colonels. Let’s get back to work.” Ed sat down and began pouring over diaries with a sour expression on his face. Al reluctantly did the same, although he undoubtedly would rather talk about Kissing Colonels.

Ed, once again, found it difficult to concentrate on the materials in front of him. Al’s words kept poking at his brain. 

Boyfriend?

He had gone on dates with the Colonel, he had been kissed by the Colonel, he had dreams about the Colonel. _Did_ that make him a boyfriend? Forget Al’s brain, his own was about to break. Again.

Boyfriend implied more than just physical attraction, though. And that was all it was with the Colonel. Pure physical, animal attraction. He certainly wasn’t in love with the man. He didn’t even harbor any real affection towards him. What he was left with was lust and a grudging respect for the man’s skills.

No, Roy Mustang was definitely _not_ his boyfriend.

After a few more hours of study, the brothers called it a night and headed back to the dorms. It was a long walk, but the cool night air did much to soothe Ed’s nerves. He tried not to think about the events of the day, or what might happen tomorrow. He just wanted to enjoy the breeze and the peacefulness of the city in the late evening.

But it was not to be.

Al piped up, “So if the Colonel isn’t your boyfriend, what is he?”

Ed sighed. Could he not get a few hours respite from thinking about that bastard? “I dunno,” he replied. “A boss with benefits?” He was only half joking.

“Benefits?” Al asked innocently. “What kind of benefits?”

Ed was _not_ going to answer that one.

The older Elric brother was so worn out by the time they reached the dorms, that he barely managed to get his boots off before he collapsed into bed, fully clothed and wanting nothing more than dreamless sleep. 

As exhausted as he was, sleep was slow in coming. He was overtired and still had too much on his mind. Al kept bringing up things he didn’t want to think about. What kind of benefits indeed.

What did he really want out of all this, other than for it never to have happened? All the while Mustang had been kissing him, Ed had felt the urge to touch the man, to allow his hands free reign to roam over that body. Did he truly want, as he had put it earlier, a boss with benefits?

Did he really want to fuck Roy Mustang? Is that where this game would end?

Would that put an end to the confused desires, the preoccupation that was getting in the way of his work, would it put an end to the dreams that haunted him night after night? Was this something he simply needed to get out of his system? Or would quenching one thirst simply lead to more of the same?

After churning the question around in his brain countless times, he finally found some solace in sleep. But it was double edged, because he dreamed. And in his dreams he relived that kiss over and over again.

~*~*~*~*~

Ed was up early, ready to get back to work, despite Al’s protests that he hadn’t gotten nearly enough rest. Ed had replied that it was nothing about five cups of coffee wouldn’t cure, and he headed off to the mess hall to get some breakfast. Al went on ahead to get started at Kellig’s place. He had no need to eat, and it was not like they’d let him in the mess anyway. Military personnel only.

Ed made quick work of his breakfast, and after downing several cups of coffee, felt semi-alive again.

As he made his way towards the house of Joshua Kellig he vowed that this day would be all work and no Mustang. He would keep the man out of his thoughts until the appointed hour when he had to go meet him in person. 

His single mindedness yielded results. Between Al going thought the alchemical journals and Ed through the personal ones, they had finally translated enough of the texts to say that there was concrete evidence that Kellig was researching human transmutation. Whether he had actually reached the point of attempting it was still in doubt.

Kellig had definitely been a clever and resourceful man and a talented alchemist. Ed felt the stirrings of pity for a man who, according to what he read in the man’s personal journals, had been devastated at losing the love of his life to a random street mugging. If he had gotten as far as attempting to transmute his dead lover, it was possible that he had disappeared beyond the gate, in which case they would never know his final disposition.

Bolstered by this small victory, the brother threw themselves back into translating with gusto. So engrossed were they in their work that the day seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye. Ed didn’t realize how late it was until he heard a persistent honking coming from outside.

Edward was relieved to find that, rather than the Colonel behind the wheel of the black military vehicle, it was Havoc. Although every time he rode with the man he ended up smelling like cigarette smoke. They made small talk about the goings on at HQ, Havoc gushed about his new girlfriend, and all the while Ed’s mind was elsewhere; wondering what to expect from the Colonel.

He would find out soon enough. Havoc dropped him off at HQ, and Ed made his way to the Colonel’s office with all the optimism of a man headed for the gallows. What would happen behind the closed doors of the colonel’s office tonight? What did Ed want to happen?

It was with trepidation that he knocked on the colonel’s door. 

He found the man sitting on one of the office couches, eating a sandwich and nursing a cup of coffee. On the table in front of him was an identical sandwich and a second cup of coffee.

“Have a seat, Fullmetal. You’re late so I started without you,” Mustang informed him.

Ed made his way to the other couch. “There was traffic,” he explained as he unwrapped his sandwich. “I gotta ask, why the preoccupation with feeding me.”

Mustang shrugged. “Since I can’t convince you to give up the late nights, I might at least see that you don’t die of starvation before you collapse from exhaustion. And besides, someone informed me that the proper meal to feed a subordinate was a sandwich and a cup of coffee, so there you go.”

Ed made short work of the sandwich. It was pretty good. The coffee wasn’t bad either. And god knew he could use the pick-me-up.

“So, Fullmetal, what have you got to report?” Mustang asked.

Ed relayed the day’s discoveries. Mustang frowned at the information that Kellig was definitely researching human transmutation. He had known the man. Not well, but he had been an acquaintance. It was disheartening to hear he had been brought so low and had resorted to such forbidden alchemical arts.

Mustang cleared the cups and wrappers away and came to sit back down. Only he didn’t return to the opposite couch. Rather he took his seat next to Ed.

Ed’s eyes narrowed. “What’re you up to Colonel? A repeat of last night?”

“Would you like one?” the Colonel asked slyly.

“Would you like another slap in the face?” Ed asked pointedly.

Mustang shrugged. “It was worth it.”

“Why are you doing this anyway? Why me?” Ed asked, his tone frustrated. “You have the pick of all the women and probably half the men in Central. Why me?”

Mustang sighed. His expression was a serious one. “Do you really have no idea how attractive you are?” the Colonel asked. “In case you don’t, let me spell it out for you: I find you incredibly attractive. As far as why you: we can’t always pick who we’re attracted to. Frankly my life would be a lot easier if you were a twenty-something female civilian instead of my underage male subordinate, but there you go. And I’m willing to bet that you weren’t exactly thrilled to discover you were attracted to me.

“There’s an understatement,” Ed interjected.

“Now that we’re done discussing the nature of human attraction, I’d like to kiss you again, that is if you promise not to smack me for it.”

Ed thought a moment. He had enjoyed the kiss yesterday, despite his reaction afterwards. He wouldn’t mind feeling that way again. “Alright.”

Mustang put a hand behind Ed’s neck and drew him into a deep kiss. This kiss was different than yesterday’s, Ed realized though the haze of pleasant sensations that were running rampant through his body. That kiss had been controlled. This kiss was all passion and very little control. The fact that he had made Roy Mustang apparently lose his cool, calculating manner made Ed feel powerful. That feeling was like adding an aphrodisiac to an already sexually charged situation. 

Ed’s hands itched to roam Mustang’s body. And so they did. Ed’s hands started at Mustang’s neck and worked their way down, skimming across his chest covered only by his thin white button-down shirt. Ed could practically feel the skin underneath. When his fingers lightly grazed the other man’s nipples through the thin fabric, Mustang moaned his pleasure into Ed’s mouth.

Suddenly, Roy put his hands around Ed’s waist and hauled him over to straddle the older man’s lap.

“Whoa,” Ed protested. “I said kiss, not fuck.”

Mustang's eyes, hazy with pleasure, bored into Ed’s own. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Not for a second.”

“Well could you try?” Mustang asked. His voice had a desperate edge to it. He pulled Ed into another passionate kiss. Suddenly Ed lost track of why he had protested to begin with. This was certainly less awkward than sitting side-by-side on the couch. And it allowed greater access to Mustang’s body. 

Mustang’s hands pushed Ed’s coat down his shoulders and off, followed by his black jacket, leaving him in nothing but his black undershirt. Ed supposed he should protest this action, but the feeling of Roy’s hands skimming his torso, as well as the light touch running down his now bare left arm gave him a shiver of pleasure. And when Mustang’s hand slid up and under that last remaining piece of clothing, Ed started like he had received an electric shock. The feeling of skin on skin was exhilarating. This emboldened Ed to pull the Colonels own shirt out and slip his hands underneath. One flesh and one automail hand mapped out the contours of the Colonel’s flesh.

Roy reached up Ed’s shirt and gave one nipple a tweak. God that sensation sent straight to Ed’s groin. He arched into the Colonel. Hardness ground against hardness and they both gasped into each other’s mouths.

Ed broke the kiss. “You bastard. This was way more than I signed on for and you know it,” he growled.

Mustang’s breathing was hard and fast. “Would you like me to stop?”

“Not unless you want to get belted with the automail this time,” Ed answered breathlessly and sealed his mouth to the Colonel’s.

They continued to rock together, erection against erection, hands touring each other’s bodies. Ed was lost in a haze of pleasure. Every piece of sensory input, from Mustang’s lips against his, to Mustang’s hands roaming his body, it all seemed to center on that one part of him that was already aching and hard and weeping for release. The Colonel’s hands abandoned their travels along Ed’s upper half and came to rest on the younger man’s buttocks. He used the extra leverage to grind Ed against him even harder.

Their rhythm was rapidly deteriorating into a frenzied coming together. A furious search for release. Kissing was even abandoned, so intent were both men on finding heir completion. Instead, their eyes locked together in a gaze that somehow seemed even more intimate than kissing.

Ed took in the sight of the man underneath him. Mustang’s hair was tousled, beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, his face was filled with raw need. Ed didn’t think he had ever found the man more attractive than he did at this moment.

Ed could feel his climax coming. And when it came it burst over and through him like a fireworks display. He gave a shout, shuddering as the waves washed over him one after the other. He was dimly aware that Mustang was also coming, pressing them together so hard he could feel the other man’s cock twitching through both their trousers.

As the last of the aftershocks left him, Ed collapsed onto the Colonel, who took the opportunity to steal another kiss from his exhausted partner. Ed was too drained to protest. And besides, it was kind of nice, a long lazy kiss now that all the passion had been spent.

“I really should belt you for this,” Ed told the Colonel when he had caught his breath.

“It would still be worth it,” the Colonel replied contentedly. “That has to have been the most fantastic dry-hump in world history.”

Ed laughed. He had to agree.


	14. In which Ed gets off and Al gets busted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

Roy watched with amusement as Ed tried valiantly to stay awake during the ride back to the Kellig house. Apparently a string full of late nights and a dose of sexual satiety equaled one sleepy alchemist. Roy had offered to take Ed to the dorms, had even offered to drop by and let Alphonse know his brother retired early. But Ed had vehemently insisted. And Roy knew better than to argue with a determined Fullmetal.

Roy tried not to look too pleased with himself, lest Ed get his thoroughly stained knickers in a twist, but he couldn’t help feeling a bit like the cat who had just caught the canary only to find it cream-filled. Not only had he managed to steal another of Ed’s firsts, this time without even getting smacked, but he had managed to put the young man in a state of bliss-filled compliance.

He should have thought of this years ago.

And when they finally arrived at the small, run down residence where Ed’s brother was no doubt still translating away, Mustang pulled his young subordinate into a goodnight kiss that was far more passionate than it needed to have been. 

Their lips parted, reluctantly on Roy’s part. “You’re such a pervert,” Ed said with a sleepy half-scowl.

Roy smiled. “Only for you,” he teased.

“Yeah, right,” were Ed’s last words before he opened the passenger door and retreated into the Kellig house, leaving Roy alone in his car. So Roy drove home. And as he did, quite tired himself, he pictured his warm bed waiting for him.

He couldn’t help but wish there would be someone in it other than himself.

~*~*~*~*~

By the time Ed finally awoke the next morning, the sun had already been up for a good hour. The first thing he noticed was that Al wasn’t in the room. Closer inspection revealed a note:

_Brother -  
I’ve gone ahead to Kellig’s house. You need to catch up on your sleep. A shower wouldn’t hurt either. And make sure you eat a good breakfast, not just coffee.  
\- Al_

Ed chuckled. Al would make a good doting parent one day. Once they got their bodies back. Then he could dispense the mothering to someone who really needed it.

Last night had been blissfully dreamless. Ed was naïve enough to hope that yesterday’s liaison with the Colonel might have just gotten the urge out of his system. He grabbed some necessities and headed down the hall to the showers. 

The communal bathrooms were deserted. No surprise. Most military men were up and at their posts by the crack of dawn. Ed had the place to himself as he stood at the sink brushing his teeth. He took the opportunity to study his reflection in the large mirror. He half expected to see a big neon sign flashing over his head for all to see: “I got my rocks off in Roy Mustang’s lap, ask me how!”

But he didn’t look any different. He looked like the same Ed as yesterday, plus a couple of red marks on his neck. And his collarbone. And his shoulder. What the fuck had Mustang been doing anyway, marking his territory? He made a note to give the man a ration of crap over it. God forbid he had to explain the marks to his brother. 

Ed finished his teeth and headed for the showers. He hastily stripped off his clothes, hung them on the peg and entered the shower stall. The steaming hot water felt amazingly good. Maybe if he concentrated hard enough the shower might just wash the last twenty-four hours out of his memory.

He cursed under his breath as he set about washing his hair. That was the _real_ problem: not that he couldn’t erase yesterday’s events but that he wasn’t sure he even wanted to. He should be traumatized, horrified, filled with the spirit of wholesome regret. He had committed wanton sexual acts with Colonel Roy my-fucking-middle-name-is-sarcasm-and-my-Ed-you’re-looking-especially-short-today Mustang. His brain should have imploded by now.

Even this morning, in the harsh light of day, when most people experience the typical morning-after syndrome of regrets and second-guessing, he waited for the horror to set in, but nothing came. Admittedly he never envisioned his first sexual experience with another person to consist of shooting a load in his pants while dry-humping his C.O. on an office couch, but what the hell part of his life had ever turned out normal?

Speaking of normal.

Ed looked down at the traitorous part of his anatomy that had decided to salute the memory of last night’s festivities. Damned teenage libido. 

He tried to think of all the usual things that dampened his ardor. Unfortunately most of them involved Roy Mustang teasing him about his height, berating him with that sarcastic tone of his, or otherwise ruining his day. 

The problem being, now when he thought of Roy Mustang teasing him, it brought memories of hands teasing sensitive skin. When he thought of that voice, he thought of the muffled cries, moans and sighs from last night.

If his cock got any harder he could use it for a towel rack.

So he set about remedying the situation in the most expeditious way possible. He wrapped his flesh hand around his erection and began to work it slowly up and down. That felt good. The combination of the hot spray on his back and the hand working his cock, it felt like he was getting a full-body massage. 

He tried to keep his mind blank, concentrating only on the pleasurable physical sensation radiating from his nether regions. With his automail hand, he tweaked his nipple. Shit, that felt good. Had felt good when Mustang had done it to him last night. Until last night he had never thought of his chest as such an erogenous zone, but apparently it was one. The hand on his cock picked up speed.

And dammit, he was trying not to think about the Colonel, really he was, but his traitorous mind kept wondering what it would feel like to have a different set of hands on him, manipulating that part of him (because God knew that bastard was _so_ good at manipulating). What would it be like if Mustang was here now? Would he be behind him, stroking Ed’s cock from behind, or would he be in front of him, watching Ed’s face as it contorted in pleasure. 

He imagined Mustang behind him, the hot spray washing over both of them. Ed could practically feel the other man there, Mustang’s own cock pressed against his back, Mustangs fingers expertly stroking him. He imagined Mustang’s lips against his ear, whispering tender obscenities, arousing his mind the way that delicious hand was arousing his body.

Ed’s hand, (or was it Mustang’s hand?) was a blur on his cock as the hand went from caressing to just a good old-fashioned frenzied jerk-off. The lines between reality and fantasy blurred as Ed’s climax approached. He could feel it building, that tension coiling in his lower spine, ready to explode outward. And when it did he was unable to keep himself from groaning in his release. He came powerfully and copiously, especially considering he had indulged just yesterday evening.

Ed looked at the milky white evidence of his crime. It coated his fingers. So much for getting Mustang out of his system.

He leaned his forehead against the cool tile of the shower. “God, I’m fucked-up,” he told nobody in particular.

~*~*~*~*~

With all the time that he had wasted that morning, Ed dressed and ate in double time and hopped a streetcar to the vicinity of Kellig’s house. He made pretty good time, considering. He wondered if Al had made any headway in his absence.

Upon entering the familiar house, the smell of dust immediately filled his nostrils, making his nose twitch reflexively. He found his brother in his customary place, sitting on the floor, so intent on a particular manuscript that he hadn’t even noticed Ed’s entrance. In fact the manuscript looked suspiciously colorful. And paperback. And non-alchemical in nature.

Ed marched over and whipped the book out of his brother’s hands so fast Al barely had time to get out a protest.

“ _Icha Icha Paradise: Boy’s Love Riot_?? Al, where the hell did you get this … this shit?” Ed squawked.

Al looked positively comical, stuttering madly and waving his arms about in a panic. Ed got something in there about a bookstore but the rest of it was lost in his brother’s gibbering.

Ed sighed. “Al, calm down. I just want to know what you’re doing with this and where you got it. You’re _way_ too young to be reading this garbage. Hell, I’m too young to be reading this.”

Al looked at him guiltily. “I got it from the corner bookstore. They just saw the armor and didn’t even ask my age.”

Ed shook his head. “But why this?”

“I thought … I guess … I mean … I kinda …” Al returned to his stuttering.

“Spit it out, Al, before I die of old age,” Ed said, losing his already taxed patience.

“I wanted to try and understand you!” Al blurted out.

“Huh?”

“Ever since you told me that you were, y’know … gay. And ever since this thing with Colonel Mustang, I feel like there’s this wall between us.” Al thought for a moment. “No, that’s not right. It’s like you’re in a whole ‘nother world half the time. A world I have no place in. And it scares me.”

Ed was shocked at his brother’s admission. He sat down next to Al with a thud. “I … I don’t know what to say,” Ed admitted. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t really understand it either. I want something that I don’t want to want. It’s like the Colonel’s there and there’s thing _thing_ between us that just keeps pulling us together. It’s like I’m on a fucking string or something. He still annoys the shit out of me most of the time but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to … well …"

“Jump his bones?” Al interjected.

Ed blushed. “You don’t have to put it quite like that.” He looked Al in the eyes, an earnest expression on his face. “Al, you just gotta bear with me until this is over. When we get out of Central I know everything will be fine.”

“Will it?”

“Hell, yeah, it will. What, do you think I’m gonna pine away for that jerk? I don’t even like him. He’s condescending, sarcastic, manipulative and overbearing. He always gives me the shittiest assignments. He’s always having his spies check up on us. It’s just that …”

“You wanna jump his bones,” Al repeated.

Ed could hear the teasing in his brother’s voice. “Dammit, Al will you stop saying that. I swear I’ll go deaf. And if I ever see you reading another one of these again,” he waved the porno mag in the air, “I’ll go blind too.”

“Wow,” Al said. “One armed, one legged, blind, deaf and short. That would suck.”

Now it was Al’s turn to go deaf.


	15. In which we discover the universal appeal of Julia Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

Ed had kissed Roy Mustang and been kissed by Roy Mustang. He had sat in the lap of Roy Mustang, had groped and been groped by Roy Mustang. At this very moment he had several hickeys that were, in fact, caused by Roy Mustang.

So why the hell did it bother Ed so much to ask him about Alchemy?

Professional pride, maybe? Ed didn’t like relying on anyone for alchemical knowledge. He’d rather research it himself and get the info straight from the source. Most likely, though, he just didn’t want to owe the man any favors.

Because he had a pretty good idea how Mustang would want him to pay up. The pervert.

Oh, who the hell was he kidding? In the Pervert Society of Central City, of which Mustang was most definitely the President, Ed was probably vice president. Or at least the treasurer. Especially considering this morning’s matinee in the shower.

After carefully weighing his interests, however, he realized it would be far more expeditious just to ask the Colonel than to start pouring over volumes in the Library.

Because, it seemed, their Green Earth Alchemist had been dabbling outside his realm of expertise. Namely in flame alchemy.

That was how Ed found himself, well before the appointed hour, standing in front of Mustang’s office, working up the courage to knock. 

Just as he was about to, the door swung open, revealing the man himself. A look of surprise graced the Colonel’s features before settling into his customary confident smirk. 

“I believe you’re about six hours early, Fullmetal,” Mustang pointed out.

“No shit, Colonel? Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Ed replied sarcastically. “I need to consult with someone about flame alchemy. Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need something.”

“Flame alchemy?”

“Yeah,” Ed answered. “Looks like Kellig was broadening his horizons. Check it out.” Ed handed him one of Kellig’s notebooks, open to a page featuring several symbols. “Those mean anything to you?”

Mustang looked at the page thoughtfully for a moment. “Maybe. I ‘m on my way to a meeting, so I can’t look at it right now. But I’ll have Havoc pick you up at 1730 and take you to the best repository of fire-related alchemical texts in Central. Or probably anywhere else for that matter. I’ll meet you there.”

~*~*~*~

Ed stood in front of the well-to-do looking townhouse with a peeved expression on his face.

Mustang could have at least _told_ him that this grand repository of alchemical knowledge was at the Colonel’s fucking house. Ed was feeling distinctly like the fly who had been invited into the spider’s parlor. 

“Well, do you plan on looking at it all night, or are you coming in?” asked Mustang as he stood in the doorway of the house. His customary uniform had been exchanged for slacks and a dress shirt.

Ed didn’t budge from the front walk. “I’m just wondering if you’re that much of a pervert in the office, how bad you must be at home,” he said sarcastically.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to eat you … well not on the front steps anyway.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Ed said warily, but began to make his way to the entrance of the Mustang residence.

The inside of Roy Mustang’s house was tastefully, if minimally decorated. It had the look of a place that wasn’t lived in much. A place that was passed through, a place where nights were spent, but not a place that could ever be described as homey. 

He followed Mustang to a door that led off the front hallway. Stairs leading downward revealed it to be a basement. When Ed caught sight of the contents of the basement, his eyes widened with surprise and undisguised awe.

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled the room, leaving only room for a small desk sandwiched between the towers of alchemical tomes. Ed whistled in appreciation. The sheer amount of _knowledge_ held in this room was mind-blowing. And to think it was the collection of a single individual was even more impressive. 

“Much of it was inherited from my teacher,” Mustang explained. “The rest I’ve accumulated over the years. Most of it is flame-alchemy related, but there’s a fairly good representation of general alchemical texts as well.”

“Uh-huh,” Ed answered, not really listening. He was already perusing the shelves. “Holy Shit,” Ed said quietly. “Beninger … Dusterhoff … Kliener … talk about rare! They don’t even have these in the Central Library.” 

Mustang smiled at Ed’s enthusiasm. “Take as much time as you need. Use the desk. I assume you haven’t eaten yet?”

Ed was already pulling out books to use for reference. “Huh? Uh, no. Why?”

Mustang started up the stairs. “I’ll make us dinner while you get started. Then we’ll go over Kellig’s notes.”

Ed was at a loss for what to say. He didn’t know how to react to this new, generous side of his arch-nemesis cum non-boyfriend. “Uh … okay,” he said lamely.

He was relieved when Mustang disappeared up the stairs, giving him the ability to concentrate again. He picked out a few more volumes that looked useful, refusing to be tempted by the rare but off-topic volumes he saw lining the shelves. Man, if he could just have a week straight in this room, he thought wistfully. Too bad it was located in the lion’s den.

He set to taking notes from the various volumes, jotting down particularly relevant information or symbols in his own precise brand of shorthand. An hour lapsed seemingly in the blink of an eye.

It would be a lot easier to concentrate without all the delicious smells wafting down from upstairs. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast this morning, and his hunger was making it hard to concentrate. _The hell with it_ , he thought. Setting aside the book he was working with, he tucked his notes into Kellig’s journal and brought it with him as he climbed the stairs, following the delicious smells. Hopefully after dinner he could finally get Mustang to look at the fire symbols in the journal.

He found the man himself slicing vegetables into a salad bowl in the kitchen. He looked so … domestic. His shirt sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, his stocking feet made no sound as he moved over to stir a couple pots before resuming his chopping.

“Didn’t know you cooked,” Ed said conversationally.

Mustang didn’t look up from his work. “Cooking is like alchemy in a kitchen, Fullmetal. You could probably do it too if you tried. Simply a matter of the right ingredients under the right conditions. Here.” Roy held the knife out, handle-first, to Ed. “Have at it. Finish these up while I tend to the rest,” he said, smiling.

Having a policy of never trusting smiling men with knives, Ed took the blade warily. As Mustang moved over to the pot on the stove, Ed eyed the innocuous looking tomato on the cutting board. How hard could it be? He brought the knife squarely down on the fruit. Rather than slicing cleanly through, the tomato squashed down, spitting juice everywhere. Ed cursed.

Mustang appeared over his shoulder, chuckling. 

“What’s so goddamn funny?” Ed groused, scowling at the offending tomato.

Roy took another tomato and placed it on the cutting board. “That’s _not_ how you cut a tomato.”

“Well excuse me for not being Julia-fucking-Child,” Ed snapped.

Roy took Ed’s hand in his own and guided it back to the cutting board. “You pierce the skin with the tip of the blade, then cut through the opening.” He guided Ed’s hand through the motions. 

Ed tried to keep the blush from rising to his cheeks. After all they had done, why did the simple act of Mustang’s calloused hands covering his own seem so … intimate? “Fine. Fine. You made your point. I don’t know jack about cooking.” Ed shrugged him off. “Now go and mind your damn pots and keep your hands off my tomato.” 

Grinning, Roy obediently went back to the stove to tend to the rest of the meal.

Ed finished the rest of his chopping imagining the Colonel’s face on the cutting board.

But the time they got the finished products to the table, Ed had gone from hungry to ravenous. He wasn’t even going to ask how Mustang had known to make spaghetti with meat sauce, one of Ed’s ranking favorites of all time. The conversation was sparse; Mustang complained about the endlessly boring and boringly endless meetings he had been forced to attend that day. Ed soundly pronounced him a big baby and took another bite of his pasta. Ed, for his part, updated him on the progress of their translation, complaining about the slowness and tediousness of the task he had been handed. Roy soundly pronounced him a big baby. Ed threw a roll at his Commanding Officer. That pretty much ended the conversation.

After dinner they left the dishes in the sink and adjourned to the living room where Roy finally took a look at the journal of Joshua Kellig.

Mustang examined the volume, flipped a few pages, turned it right, left and upside down. Frowned. Flipped back a few pages. 

“Well?” Ed asked when his patience finally wore out

“No Clue,” Roy announced proudly.

Ed wanted to smack him. “What do you mean, ‘No clue’?? You’re supposed to be the expert in this shit!”

“It’s in pieces,” Roy pointed out slightly defensively. “Taken together and in the right formation, it could make an array. But what the array is designed to produce depends entirely upon the arrangement.”

“Do you even have a best guess?” Ed asked desperately.

“It has nothing to do with human transmutation, I can say that for sure,” Mustang replied confidently. “In fact it’s so far from Kellig’s area of study that I can’t fathom what he was doing with these notes,” he thought for a moment. “And you found no arrays in the house?”

Ed shook his head. “Nothing.”

“You searched the whole place?”

Ed gave him a look that asked for at least a little credit as a professional. “All two floors and the basement. Nothing.”

“Attic?”

Ed frowned. “No access that we could find.”

“There has to be access,” Mustang insisted.

Now Ed was getting pissed. “You want to come search that dust factory of a house, go right ahead,” he snapped. “I’m telling you we didn’t find any access. Period.”

Mustang studied him for a moment. Ed’s anger was replaced by a keen sense of self-consciousness. “What?” he growled.

Mustang’s eyes continued to take him in. “I was just noticing how hot you look when you’re angry.”

Ed’s own eyes narrowed. “I was wondering how long it would take for the pervert to rear his ugly head.”

Roy’s smile took on a slightly predatory edge. “If I’m perverted, it’s because you make me that way.”

Ed huffed. “Oh, sure, blame the vi-“

He found himself utterly silenced by now-familiar lips, pressing against his own with a ferocity that was as sudden as it was surprising. Quick to recover and not one to be outdone, he matched Mustang’s enthusiasm with his own, grabbing the front of the older man’s shirt and pulling him closer.

As their tongues met in this still-novel dance, Ed felt the immediate stirrings of arousal. This had been inevitable, he knew, from the second he had set foot in the Colonel’s house. That’s how predictable, yet uncontrollable this fucking _thing_ between them had become. 

Before giving himself a chance to think about it, Ed began pulling the older man’s shirt up and out of his pants, snaking his hands underneath to feel the bare skin of his abdomen. Mustang made a sound of contentment at the contact. Ed allowed his hands to roam. 

What would happen this evening? More of the same? Dry humping on a living room couch this time, instead of a hard office couch? Or would Mustang try to push things further. Did Ed want him to push things further? In his mind’s eye Ed momentarily flashed back to this morning, standing naked in the shower, imagining Mustang’s hand pumping him to completion. He moaned into the older man’s mouth at the memory. Impulsively, and without even breaking contact, he brought himself to straddle the Colonel’s lap. Blossoming erections met and they both groaned into the other’s mouth.

Suddenly Ed felt hands deftly undoing his braid. He broke the kiss to protest. “Hey!”

“Shhhh,” Mustang commanded, undoing the last of the plaits and running his hands through the light-colored mane, letting it fall around Ed’s face and shoulders. “I have wanted to do this for-“ he paused.

“For?”

Mustang’s gaze softened. “Forever,” he said quietly.

Ed blushed crimson. “You bastard. You knew this was going to happen when you invited me over here, didn’t you?”

The glint returned to the older man’s eyes. “Equivalent exchange.”

Ed let out a genuine laugh. “I get your library and you get some ass? You really are a bastard.”

Roy massaged Ed’s scalp with his nails, earning him a satisfied sigh from his partner. “You can use it anytime you like. I’d even give you a key.”

“Hmmmm?” Ed tried to concentrate despite the pleasurable ministration. “Oh yeah? And what’d that cost me?”

Mustang paused, as if deciding an appropriate payment. “One night,” he said finally. “Stay here. All night. No going back to the dorms.”

The comment acted on Ed like a bath of ice-water. Immediately the pleasant haze of sexual tension snapped into nothingness. Amazing. That the King of smooth talking had unwittingly uttered the one thing that could shut Ed down so totally. Fucking amazing.

Ed, his eyes stony and his face expressionless, pushed the stunned Colonel away, moving off the older man’s lap. “Sorry, Colonel,” he said as he rose calmly from the couch. “That’s a deal I won’t be making anytime soon.” Ed picked up the journal and notes from the coffee table and began making his way to the door.

“Fullmetal-“ the Colonel called after him, rising from the couch, preparing to follow him. 

“Thanks for the meal, Colonel,” Ed uttered dispassionately as he collected his coat from the rack in the hall. 

Roy reached the hall as Ed was opening the door. Ed paused in the doorway and Roy for a moment was hopeful that maybe whatever had turned the young man so cold so quickly could be remedied. He began to reach out a hand to grasp the young man’s shoulder. His hopes were quickly destroyed.

Ed didn’t even do Roy the courtesy of turning around as he spoke. “You may be my superior, _Colonel_ , and you may want to fuck me. Hell, maybe I want to fuck you too. “

Roy’s eyes widened at both the admission and the brutal frankness of it.

“But at the end of the day, I go back to my brother,” Ed said stonily. “That’s not going to change. Not until we get our bodies back.”

Roy watched, the heavy weight of disappointment like lead in his stomach, as the small figure travelled down the lamp lit street, growing smaller and smaller, and finally disappearing into the darkness.

*~*~*~

By the time Ed made it back to the Kellig house on foot, he was well and truly late. His brother, with his usual tact-beyond-his-years, said nothing about it. 

“Well, did you get anything out of the Colonel?” Al made a choked sound. “Information! I mean information-wise! About the journal!”

Ed couldn’t help but laugh at his brother’s embarrassed flailing. And Al couldn’t help but notice, despite his embarrassment, how totally without humor his brother’s laugh seemed.


	16. In which Havoc narrowly avoids immolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a revelation about himself. Then he has a revelation about the colonel. Insanity ensues for all involved.

This had all gone so wrong _so_ incredibly fast. 

Roy had known a personal involvement with Edward Elric was a bad idea. Embarking on this game of sexual cat and mouse had been ill-advised on a myriad of levels. On the superficial level it broke several military regulations and many more unwritten standards of conduct. Beyond the superficial level …

There was never supposed to be anything _but_ a superficial level. 

Mustang attacked his paperwork that morning with a vengeance; burying his irritation behind a veneer of productivity. He was snappish to his staff, and merely civil to his peers. And when a smirking Jean Havoc asked him how his date last night went, he had to resist the temptation to light the other man’s head on fire. It galled him even more because Havoc actually _knew_ who had been in attendance at Mustang’s house last night. Not that the Second Lieutenant would do anything with that information. The man was a prick, but he was the soul of discretion when the cards were down. Despite that, Havoc spent all day looking like nothing so much as a man caught in the throes of terminal amusement. He was probably relishing seeing his C.O. taking the end of the relationship pipe for once.

Relationship?

 _Shit._

The Colonel angrily dashed his signature across the bottom of yet another form. Here behind the closed doors of his office he allowed himself the luxury of a good scowl. He didn’t do relationships. He did women, he did civilians, and above all, he did _uncomplicated_. Three qualities that certainly did not apply to Edward Elric. 

There had never been any future in this endeavor. He actively did not _want_ one. This was supposed to have been a diversion, albeit a slightly more dangerous one than the usual. Yanking Fullmetal around a little, making the blonde squirm, doing a little squirming of his own; that had been the goal. The past few days had been a variation on the usual theme; animosity with a side of lust. Now they could just go back to animosity. Business as usual.

Then why was he so fucking _angry_? 

+++

This had all gone so wrong _so_ incredibly fast. 

Ed attacked Joshua Kellig’s journals like a man on a mission. Which was pretty much what he was; the mission being to finish up this crap assignment and then put as many miles between the Elric brothers and Central as possible. 

The young alchemist spent the majority of the day lost in translation; sitting on the floor of Kellig’s home, surrounded by journals and trying to ignore the omnipresent clinging dust. He finally had to resort to tying a bandana in front of his face because the crap kept getting up his nose.

Al had taken one look at his brother and dissolved into giggles, pointing out that whatever career choices Ed might have post-military, they should probably not include bank-robber; Ed looked thoroughly unintimidating. Ed then proceeded to ask his brother, quite pointedly, who the hell was so short that he couldn’t reach the bottom of a bank-teller window? And if the whole routine was a bit forced, neither brother was crass enough to point that out. The byplay served to cut a little of the tension that had descended last night, when the elder Elric returned to the dorms, slightly rumpled, sans braid, and with a scowl that could peel paint.

Ed had told his brother the truth about the evening, if a severely edited version; the Colonel had pissed him off, f-bombs were dropped, speedy departure, end-of-story. Not that Al had let it drop at that bare bones description. The younger Elric was like a master interrogator with a penchant for voyeurism. Yeah, Al, there was snogging. No, no slapping this time. And when Al asked him where his hair-elastic had gotten to, Ed turned red and made a strategic retreat under the bedclothes, effectively ending the conversation.

Unfortunately, once ensconced in bed, Ed had nothing but the inane rambling of his own mind to deal with. And his mind seemed to want to go over every moment of his pseudo-date. In detail. 

The evening had begun pleasantly, if a little surreally. The food had been great, the conversation intelligent enough to capture Ed’s interest, and snarky enough to keep it. The soft-core sexual calisthenics had been as engrossing as ever. Ed had actually enjoyed himself last night, at least up until the point where everything fell apart. 

In the dark recesses of Ed’s psyche, buried under his newly discovered libido and his Mustang-induced psychosexual trauma, a small voice told him that he might have overreacted at least a little. All the Colonel had done was offer Ed an evening of unhurried groping somewhere more comfortable than on a couch or in the front seat of a car. Surely the man wasn’t proposing anything more than mutually gratifying physical release; Ed didn’t _think_ his CO was a masochist. A morally bankrupt hedonist, maybe, but not a masochist. All that had been offered was a mutual notching of bedposts. Mustang hadn’t been thinking beyond getting his own rocks off, surely.

The problem was that right now, he really didn’t give a shit what Mustang had been thinking. He only gave a shit what Edward Elric had been thinking.

Because for a moment, Ed had been tempted. If reputation and recent experience were any indication, Mustang would make the experience enjoyable. Then he realized the full implication of the Colonel’s request. 

If only for a moment, he had seriously considered leaving his brother alone. Willingly. And in favor of a night of carnal gratification with his mortal enemy, no less. 

In retrospect, the decision had not really been a decision at all. More a foregone conclusion. A reiteration of longstanding priorities. A confirmation of the hierarchy of needs as applied to Edward Elric. His brother and their shared burden: the most basic of priorities. He was pretty sure that food was in there somewhere, too.

This thing with the Colonel didn’t even rank.

He had known from the start that this Mustang thing was a shit-lousy idea. All last night had done was confirm it. 

He had known.

So now why was he so fucking _angry_?


End file.
